


Play Dirty

by jemejem



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Abuse, Foxes VS Ravens, Gang war AU, M/M, Multi, Neil's basically a serial killer, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Territory Wars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-04 14:20:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18606289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemejem/pseuds/jemejem
Summary: A gutsy runaway, who's outlived his father and is now hiding as an exotic dancer in Eden's Twilight, is offered a position in a rival gang to the Moriyamas. He can't deny that Andrew Minyard's offer is too good to refuse, but will playing as Minyard's secret weapon undo all his hard work in keeping himself hidden?





	1. Damned

Andrew Minyard, whilst short in stature and often silent, became one of the most revered figures in the criminal sphere, simply for his absolute ruthlessness and his impeccable evasion of the law. Palmetto city was territory, which he prowled and roamed with a fierce protectiveness that rivalled the sadistic fucks hacking at one another’s throats for downtown Colombia. 

Andrew had no interest in Colombia, initially. He’d had no interest in becoming a crime lord at the ripe, old age of 26, either, and yet here they stood. It wasn’t until Kevin Day had appeared on David Wymack’s — Andrew’s colleague, and the only man who Andrew really listened to — doorstep, giving the Ravens a reason to challenge the Foxes’ hold over Palmetto, and forcing Andrew’s hand. 

An elaborate plan was folded out in the landscape of his mind, and with the Ravens’ ex-little-boss under his thumb, securing his hold over their neighbouring territory would be far simpler than originally anticipated. 

Whilst Kevin was an unstable, alcoholic bastard, he truly did hate Riko Moriyama, who had been impersonating his father’s regime up north in order to attract his attention and allow him back into the family. He had been scorned after the discovery that he wasn’t Kengo Moriyama’s seed, his wife having cheated on him. The woman was shot and buried, her second son outcasted to the only family he had left: An uncle, seeking vengeance on his brother. 

The only thing standing in their way was Andrew, who held the Ravens’ most promising marksman and Riko’s plaything. Kevin was their bargaining chip, but if Riko thought he could cause such torturous havoc that Andrew would give him up, he was sorely mistaken. 

The Foxes were a gang of nobodys, recruited by the infamous thief David Wymack in order to maintain their control over the city. That included all black-market dealings, drug cartels’ imports and exports and criminal behaviour. The police had never been able to catch Andrew and never would, regardless of the Foxes’ seemingly persistent support. It was once irritating, but the low-lifes were loyal to Wymack, and thus loyal to Andrew. 

Loyalty, in Andrew’s mind, was incomparable in value. 

“Neil Josten.” Kevin had said, from across Andrew’s mahogany desk. Andrew smoked lazily as Kevin nursed a shallow glass of whisky dry. “Pin him down. He’s refused loyalty to Moriyamas, Wesninskis, Ravens, Bearcats, Trojans—if you manage to secure his loyalty, he’ll be one hell of an asset.”

Neil Josten. Andrew liked the way the name rolled off his tongue, and contemplated the young man. It was publicly known that Neil Josten, nee. Nathaniel Wesninski, had shot his father, the Butcher of Baltimore, eight times in the face for the eight years he’d spent running in fear. His father’s men had fled, most likely fearful of Josten’s vengeful streak. After killing Kengo’s right-hand, he was offered the position, but scorned the Moriyama yakuza and spent the years following skipping around, successfully evading their clutches. Andrew heard about the corpses, with their slit-throats, appearing on Kengo’s doorstep. 

Neil Josten had guts. Andrew needed someone like that: A weapon, stealthy and ruthless. 

So, he and Kevin set out. It’d prove a dangerous journey: Kevin’s feint relation with Neil Josten gave them a better chance at finding him than anyone else, but it was still a near thing. Kevin sent Neil an encrypted voicemail in French, alerting him that they were coming for a chat, and promised Andrew that Neil would talk to him. Kevin was the only person he’d ever kept in contact with, and even that was iffy. 

The club, Eden’s, was right on the border between Columbia and Baltimore. Andrew relaxed his tense shoulders as the car slid through traffic, the engine roaring on the wider, empty motorways. They would carve around the outside of Columbia, since cutting through Raven territory was a death sentence if Andrew’d ever seen one. When they arrived, it was simply a matter of parking—Andrew shoved cash at the patron of the club, who took his keys obediently and handled the matter—and finding the elusive Neil Josten. 

“Hello,” said a friendly voice. “Might I ask what your business is, here?”

Andrew turned to see a well-built, dark skinned man, standing with his hands in his pockets and a gentle smile. Compared to the costumes of other club-goers, his mesh button-down and jeans were rather tame. 

Andrew gazed around the club with its purple and green strobe lights, the bass reverberating through the glass dance-floor. The place was packed, alcohol flowing freely and the sinister intentions of night-life slinking between the feet of its victims. Dry ice veiled the ceiling, making the space seem endless. 

“Simply here for a drink.” Andrew said. The man noticed the cold edge in Andrew’s voice and simply smiled wider. 

“All yours.” He held out his hand. “Roland. I own this place. I assume you are Andrew Minyard.”

“Neil warned you.” Andrew guessed. 

Roland’s brow formed a furrow. “Don’t speak his name. His aliases are what keep him safe.” 

Andrew had assumed Neil Josten was an alias. It certainly wasn’t his birth name. 

“Follow me.” Roland said, before eyeing Kevin. “Keep close. This is neutral ground, with strict code regarding your gang wars. But that doesn’t mean they wont try.”

Andrew didn’t need to ask who they were. He felt the cool blades of his knives, hidden in the sheaths under his sleeves, and the swell of his gun in his pocket. He preferred not to use guns, unless he wished to me more humane in a killing, or he wanted to avoid mess. Knives were just much quieter, not as obvious, and very effective in eliciting the information he wanted. 

_The Monster_ the shadows whispered as he walked past. The Foxes’ most amoral, destitute recruit. 

The club gave way to a whore-house, where male figures were curled on plush sofas, the women, girls, or, rarely, men perched beside them, on top of them, kneeling before them. There were stages dotted around and paper dollars wafting across the floor, high-heeled patrons dancing in synchrony with the music. Men and women in harnesses and chains carted around trays of drinks, cigarette trays, sachets of glittering dust. 

“They are paid well, and kept safe.” Roland promised. “They are here of their own free will. No contracts.” When Andrew rose a single eyebrow, he shrugged. “I know you’re a vigilante type, Minyard. Just clearing my name.”

Andrew could appreciate a well-run club. Everyone had a vice, and every vice was served in one way or another: It was pointless of authorities to attempt to quell human needs. They should follow in Andrew’s footsteps of careful surveillance, and quick dispatching of the rotten eggs. 

“Didn’t think Josten was into such things.” Andrew muttered, keeping his wits about him as they passed through the dangerous crowd. Kevin shook his head. 

“He works here.”

Andrew rose his eyebrows. “Didn’t think he was desperate enough to stoop to bar-tending.”

“Not quite,” Kevin cleared his throat. “A little lower, perhaps.” 

Andrew was well aware of Kevin’s childhood, and the types that he was risen in company of. It didn’t mean he was going to let Kevin’s class stratification degrade prostitutes simply for their profession. Kevin saw his mistake and grimaced. 

Andrew was satisfied with the silent apology, turning his attention onto the more pressing matter at hand. “You can’t possibly lead me to believe that Neil Josten, renowned for patricide and slipping out of any authoritative figure’s grasp, is here. Soliciting himself at a shitty downtown club.”

“Seeing is believing.” Kevin muttered, raising an eyebrow. 

Andrew followed his line of sight. 

_Oh,_ he thought to himself. _Fuck._

Neil Josten hung from a brass pole, positioned on a stage that was furthest away from the entrance, nestled in a dark corner. His smile was wolfish, hair the colour of blood dripping from the tip of Andrew’s knife, and his eyes the iciest of blues. He was aware of their approach, obviously, having paused from dancing to relax where he was, instead. Andrew was perplexed by the way he seemed to float without needing to hold on, fully clothed from the waist-up, and wearing glittering fishnets and 6-inch black boots.  
Roland shooed the rather insistent crowd at the base of his stage, much to the disappointment of the men—and women—who had paid to be there. 

Josten slid down the pole to his platform when he recognised the trio, hopping off the stage. “Roland,” His voice was quiet. Careful. “I’m taking my break.”

“Of course you are, you little shit. Have you ever obeyed your scheduled breaks?”

“Only if I wanted a second one.” The corners of his mouth flitted up as the sinister spark returned to his eye. Roland laughed, fuzzing his curls before dematerialising into the shadows of his club once more. 

Andrew’s impeccable self-control tampered down the odd hiccup in his heart-rate. Neil Josten was lithe, muscular, with fluttering eyelashes and deadly-sharp cheekbones. Andrew was curious about the turtle-neck bodysuit he wore, down to his wrists and stopping at the crease between thigh and hip. Most dancers were in their sheerest lingerie. 

“This way, boys.” Neil waltzed gracefully in those monstrously tall heels. They had him towering over Andrew, but without them, he couldn’t be much taller than Andrew was. Kevin, Andrew noticed, was also sending Josten appreciative glances. Interesting. Andrew had previously concluded Kevin was only interested in women. 

They were lead up dimly lit stairs, to a row of dressing rooms. Neil threw one open, silencing a gaggle of giggling girls as they put on lipstick. 

“Katelyn,” He acknowledged. “Out of my room.”

“Ne—Nigel!” She laughed, coming to squeeze his cheeks. “Our room. Need someone to cover you?” She grinned wickedly. “This looks like it could be fun.”

“Stop trying to pawn me off.” Neil scolded, yanking her ponytail. “I should only be five minutes. How many times have I told you to keep them out?” He nodded to the two others, who were fawning over one another. 

She rolled her eyes. “They practically brainless. Won’t listen to me, no matter what I say.”

Neil stood then, a knife having materialised from where, Andrew couldn’t say. He brandished it at the girls, before throwing it towards them. Andrew wished it’d bury itself into one of their skulls, but it simply stuck out of the wall. Both looked at Neil, terrified. 

“Get out.” He warned. 

Andrew clenched his fists. Neil was dangerous. And dangerously good looking. 

They scampered off, Katelyn blowing Neil a kiss and heralding her exit with a “See you later, Nigel!” The door slammed shut and Neil locked it, before drawing a stiff curtain across it. 

“Walls are thin as hell, here.” Neil said drily. “Makes covert conversations difficult, and makes sleeping at night impossible.”

“Must be rowdy.” Kevin supplied, unhelpfully. The atmosphere between them was grossly tense. Kevin cleared his throat. “Nigel?”

Neil rolled his eyes. “Katelyn’s harmless. I go by Chris Harolds here: Only Roland and Katelyn know who I am. Nigel is Chris’ middle name, I suppose.” He slipped his boots off and sat on the bed with a sigh of relief. “Breaking in new shoes is a killer.”

“Why, Neil?” Kevin demanded. “What are you doing here, doing _this?_ ” 

“It’s neutral ground.” Neil said, icily. “There are patrons from almost every gang. I hear everything, I know everything. Many will spill every secret with a little bit of cajoling. It’s a perfect vantage point, and no one cares who you are. You’re just someone’s whore.”

“Smart.” Andrew said. “What are you trying to uncover, then?”

Neil looked up from beneath lidded eyes, with a gaze so sultry that Andrew had to suppress a shiver. “I’m simply keeping an eye out.”

“Bullshit. You could keep yourself hidden working at a grocery store just as easily.”

“True.” Neil said, mildly amused. “Maybe I’m working towards a lovely, suburban home, where I have the Moriyamas’ heads on stakes instead of a white-picket fence.” He eyed Kevin. “How does that sound, Number Two? Do you want to join them?”

Kevin glared.

“Lovely.” Andrew murmured. “So we desire similar outcomes from this whole mess.”

Neil’s eye twitched. “If you have come to recruit me, save your breath. I refuse, and I will not change my mind. Though by the time you leave this room, I will have changed yours.”

Andrew acknowledged the subtle threat. “Kevin, stand guard. Knock the pattern if you suspect we’re in danger.”

“But—“ Kevin tried. “Neil, you have to join us. Join me.”

“Out, Kevin.” Andrew warned. 

He shuffled out, and Neil locked the door behind him. 

“What’s your game here, Minyard?” Neil said, walking over to pluck the knife out of the wall. He spun it between his fingers with deft gracefulness. “I can assure you that I’ll be one step ahead.”

“You want the Moriyamas dead to free you from their persecution. I want the Moriyamas dead to reign their territory. We’re on the same trajectory. I will protect you if you work with me. No one will be able to touch you.”

Neil stared at him. 

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep, and I always keep my promises.” Andrew said, allowing the ferociousness that curled in his chest to seep into his tone. “I want you because you have a monopoly over Baltimore, which would effectively surround Columbia, and makes New York City far more accessible to me. You’re talented with solicitation—“ Neil scoffed. “—of information, and you would be considered invaluable to the Foxes’ operations.” 

“Loyalty and honesty.” Neil murmured. 

“I have told you why I want you.” Andrew agreed. “Tell me why you refuse to join.”

Neil stared at him. “The last gang I held an alliance to was my father’s. Now I have his and his inner circle’s blood on my hands.”

“I didn’t ask for your tragic backstory.” 

Neil shook his head. “No, I can’t stay. I mustn’t stay still. They will find me, kill me—“

“I will protect you.” He said, stepping closer. “Under my jurisdiction, they cannot touch you.”

He continued to shake his head mutely, throwing open a wardrobe and scrambling for a threadbare duffel bag. Andrew knew that Neil Josten would disappear into obscurity within half an hour, and this was his only moment to convince him otherwise. 

“I was sent to a rehabilitation centre when I was twenty.” Fury threatened to close his throat. “There is a doctor there. Proust. Bring me his hands and I will exempt you from any sort of contract, so long as you do not betray us. You may leave any time you wish, so long as you continue to be my eyes and ears.”

Neil paused at the offer. 

“You will be paid for your services, but you do not have to associate with the Foxes if you do not wish to. Just bring me Proust’s hands.” 

“And I am allowed to leave, if I am threatened.” Neil confirmed.

“I will provide you with protection, and if you see it as unfit, you may leave.” Andrew assured. “Join me. I am going to bring the Moriyama empire to its knees.” 

Slowly, Neil smiled.


	2. Awkward Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew waits for an answer and Neil's a little off his rocker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiiiiiii i hope this isn't too intense for y'all. also the next two chapters are super short. i just wanted to keep it one perspective per chapter.
> 
> btw, these two images inspired this au! they're both gorgeous pieces (tho not related). they are NOT MINE. 
> 
> http://linneart.tumblr.com/post/161409554770 / / / https://bloodydamnit.tumblr.com/post/183783386384/post-up-i-was-making-something-completely

Andrew lounged in a tall-backed chair, ornately carved with red-velvet cushioning. He wasn’t one for luxuries, even if his car and office said differently. He simply found the interior relaxing, the mahogany wood of the desk and ceiling-to-floor shelves in accordance, the books he had acquired, the deadbolt on the heavy door. It both reminded him of Bee’s space, where she’d once given him the space to unwind the tangled intricacies of his volatile mind. It was also reminiscent of the libraries he had once been so fond of, and was learning to tolerate again. It was his space, to do with as he pleased. Beyond his desk was another secure door, leading to his bedroom. 

He needed a grand office, to establish his worth to any visitors. He was often the breaking point in any deal, and many were made within these four, sound-proofed walls. It sat on the fourth floor of the Tower, a hotel that fronted the Foxes’ operations, along with Wymack, Dan and now Kevin’s residences. Guest quarters that housed the Foxes were on third floor, the casino and amenities on second, and more suites on the first floor. 

In the basement was where he and his Foxes could access the water system, having tampered with the cameras and appropriated maintenance uniforms. Bodies and potential bodies could be transported in and out with ease. It was a perfect system, really. 

He leaned on one hand, gazing towards the door. He hadn’t given Neil Josten a specific time frame to complete his task, but if 48 hours passed, Andrew would assume Neil had forfeited and disappeared. All Andrew could do was wait, staring at the entrance to his office as he did so. A soft breeze wafted through the open window, which opened onto a small balcony that connected his bedroom. 

“You’re dressed nicely. For, you know. Being a gangster.” 

Andrew turned his gaze to Neil, who was perched on the windowsill. He was, regretfully, not as artfully styled as he’d witnessed the other evening, instead wearing threadbare jeans and a black, sleeveless shirt, a black beanie over his hair and heavy boots. How he’d managed to climb up here was a mystery to Andrew, who made a mental note to strengthen the security on his building.

“Well, what else would I spend my hard-earned dollars on?” He brought out a cigarette and lit it, cupping his hand around the cherry. 

“Aren’t you a Robin-Hood type?” Neil remarked. “I heard you pawn it off to all your fellow brothers and sisters of misfortune. Charity cases.”

“Wymack controls finances.” Andrew crossed his ankle over his knee. “What he does with it is none of my business.”

“But it is _your_ business, yes?” Neil was like the Cheshire Cat, with corpselight in his eyes. Andrew was waiting expectantly for his bounty and Neil understood his gaze with perfect censure, sliding into his office. 

“Right. The hands. They are in my bag, but I must say, I made a small mess in your bedroom. Wrong window, you see. I cleaned off in the bathroom and changed, but you might want to get the bloody footprints steamed out of your carpet.”

“Not the first time.” Andrew said, tiredly. “I should have them replaced with tiles.”

Neil shook his head. “Grout is impossible to clean once bloodied.” 

“I’m not here to discuss tile grouting.” Andrew said. “You’re known for your efficiency. It’s been almost—“ He checked his watch. “Forty-two hours.”

“Well.” Neil leered, practically skipping over to Andrew’s desk and hopping onto it with complete disregard for the chair in the corner of the room. “I wanted to thoroughly know and understand this Proust, before setting after him. He’s terrible at hiding his disgusting behaviour, mind you. It didn’t take long to confirm that he definitely deserved a stabbing.” Neil tapped his chin. “But his personal lifestyle—irritatingly fluctuate. He had zero routine, aside from walking in and out of work at nine and five respectively. So I drew him out, by stealing a patient’s phone. He invited me back to his house, and when he opened his front door, he doomed himself. His loony-basement was perfect.”

“Still, I don’t understand how it took so long.”

“Oh, I had my fun.” Neil shrugged. “I like getting them to confess before I finish with them. And there was a _lot_ we needed to discuss.” Neil flashed a grin.

Andrew’s smile was slow and small. 

“Here.” Neil reached into his bag and brought out a plastic back, with two bloody hands. He drew them out, the blood having bled out of the limbs completely. “Want a look?”

“As you mentioned,” Andrew said dryly. “I’m dressed in a very nice suit.”

Neil wrapped the hands up once more, and slid off the table. He put his bloody hands on Andrew’s nice fucking chair, leaning over Andrew’s leaning figure. “Fuck me over, Minyard, and I’ll kill you. Zero qualms about it.”

“I made my promise.” Andrew could appreciate the muscular arms and shoulders, and the scars across his sides that Andrew could now see, thanks to the sleeveless shirt falling away from his skin. “Honour me, and I’ll honour it.” 

Neil scoffed, grabbing the hand off the table and pointing it at Andrew. “You, sir, are trouble.”

“Same could be said to you.” Andrew took a long drag from his cigarette, just as his office door opened. 

“Minyard—Oh, what the fuck?” Matthew Donovan Boyd, his best busy-body, startled at Neil’s presence. “Is that someone’s _hand_?” 

“We’re settling something.” Andrew snapped. “What is it?”

“Dead birds.” He panted. “In the hotel lobby. It’s Riko. He wants war.”


	3. Make No Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Framing some Ravens and meeting some Foxes.

“Here’s a job for you, rookie.” Andrew tilted Neil’s chin up when the door had slammed shut, the overwhelmingly tall man with spiked hair retreating from the odd scene. “Find who left those birds there. Whilst you’re at it, get rid of those hands.”

“I love framing people.” Neil grinned, swinging his bag over his shoulder and jumping through the window. Andrew stood, straightened his suit, and paid Neil one more glance, allowing Neil to salute him goodbye before he vanished. 

Luckily for Neil, the sun was finally beginning to fade. Working in broad daylight was risky enough as it was, not to mention Neil had been on somewhat of a nocturnal clock for a few weeks now, working late at the club most nights. He pulled himself up onto the Tower’s flat roof, skipping over to where the hotel’s entrance was, to look from up high. 

Ravens all drove the same vehicle, which made Neil’s job easy as fuck. Black Zagato Coupes were expensive but relatively tame cars, but even on the fourth story of a building, he could see the black number plate skidding away. He grabbed his binoculars and made the number to be _1126_ , so he skipped down the fire escape and filched a policeman’s motorcycle—a commotion was gathering outside the hotel— sliding on its helmet and speeding off. He was pretty sure he had his fabricated police ID on him, if someone decided to interfere. 

Stupidly, the car hadn’t turned off from the main strip, thinking they were in the clear. Neil caught up with them easily, and when they realised they were being chased by a police vehicle, they began to pick up speed. 

The idiots sped around a bend, making Neil’s job even easier: They lost control of the vehicle and careened the rear of their car into a pole. Neil skidded to a stop, letting his motorcycle fall as he whipped off the helmet. 

As promised, another police vehicle was chasing him, having noticed his theft of the motorcycle. Before they could arrive, Neil threw Dr Proust’s hands into the back of the car, past the Ravens who were scrambling to get out of the vehicle. Neil reached in, cutting one across the cheek and chopping a bit of his hair. It was too late for them: They were in unfamiliar territory, and the airbags would make the doors difficult to open. Maybe if they had a spare thirty seconds, but nope: The sirens drew damningly near, and Neil was satisfied with his work. Riko never tried to get his pawns out of prison: They’d remain in custody until Andrew would pay their bail, get the information he needed, then send them right back. 

With his work being (almost) satisfactorily complete, he ran. He waited another two hours before he was sure he was safe, before returning to Proust’s basement, strewing hair and blood strategically around the scene as he removed remnants of himself. He could thank Lola for her tricks and tips, but not for much else. Satisfied, he took his leave. 

Unsurprisingly, Andrew had dead-bolted both his window and the doors to his room. It was well dark by the time he returned, but Andrew didn’t jolt when he tapped on the window. 

“Must you be so unorthodox with your entrances?” Andrew Minyard was an intriguing man. Neil had noticed the interest in his gaze, but he had so far not acted upon it. It didn’t make much sense to initiate any sexual relations, if he didn’t want to squander a good business relationship. But this was the mafia, where men were insatiable, in both lust and bloodlust, and he supposed if Andrew asked, he’d have to deliver. It probably wouldn’t be that bad. Andrew was good looking. 

Regardless of desires, Andrew was paradoxical. He was brutally honest, but Neil couldn’t piece him together. His past was shadowed and murky: Neil couldn’t even figure out if Proust had been a personal agenda, or merely something to tick off a long list of vigilante deeds. He’d somehow wiped most of his existence from the web, leaving no trails. It was impressive, and that was coming from Neil. Of course he paid his taxes, and had legal documentation, but other than that, Neil couldn’t figure him out at all. 

He was no longer dressed in a suit, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt as he walked over the bloody footprints on his white carpet, apathetic and bored. Neil recognised the bulkiness of knife sheaths in those armbands, and kept his distance. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for your spy to go showing his face, if you want him to remain stealthy. People knowing _of_ me is one thing: _Knowing_ me is another entirely. I’m quite recognisable, unfortunately.” He gestured to his scars. 

“I trust my Foxes.” He said. His tone turned dark. “And if you cross me, they’ll know who they need to bring to me. Dead or alive.”

Neil pointed at him. “Exactly why I’m going to come in and out of the window.”

Andrew simply huffed, before wandering into the bathroom. He came out with a carpet steamer and a bottle of peroxide. “Here’s your next job, rookie.”

Neil looked at him with disdain. “You’re not serious.”

“You’re being paid.”

“I fucking hate you.” Neil grumbled, snatching the products off him. 

“Now you’ll think twice about tracking blood all over my fucking carpets, yes?” Andrew pinched his chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing Neil to look down. 

“I could dump a few bodies in here and leave for good.” Neil pondered. “Actually, I’m thinking that might be a good idea.”

“Cross me,” Andrew reminded him. “And you’ll be just as dead as those corpses. I might sit you atop of them, make you the king of fools.” 

Neil simply smiled at him, before kneeling on the carpet. 

He’d taken leave from Eden’s, only to be scrubbing blood out of someone’s carpet. Absolutely fucking ridiculous. 

He’d just gotten to the last half-print when Andrew’s bedroom door flew open, presenting Kevin Day in all his arrogant glory. He stood, green eyes blazing and black hair windswept as he watched over Neil. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning blood from Andrew’s carpets.” 

“No one’s allowed in here.” Kevin frowned. 

“Yes, Kevin.” Came Andrew’s distant voice, from somewhere in his office. “Including you.”

“Come on.” Kevin grabbed Neil by the arm and dragged him out of the bedroom, through Andrew’s office and down a long corridor that split off into varying rooms, which Neil assumed would be similar to that of Andrew’s. Further was a large sitting room, currently empty, and a glamorous kitchen, where a woman was kneading dough. Beyond that was an elevator, which Neil was shoved into despite his protesting, and Neil watched as he jammed one of the only two buttons available. Level Four. Basement. 

Neil swallowed as the elevator plunged downwards, towards his probable demise. Or, what the Foxes had planned for his demise. They’d probably fail: He’d faced opponents more talented, more terrifying, more tactical than the Palmetto gang. Kevin stood beside him, stone faced. 

“Are you too embarrassed to talk to me because of what I was wearing?” Neil was curious. “I hope you’ve figured out your sexuality. I don’t want to deal with another one of your crises.” 

“Shut up.” Kevin snapped. “I’m not talking to you because I’m angry at you. Don’t go fucking disappearing on me like that, okay? Ever since I ran from the Ravens I’ve balanced trying to find you with trying to kill him. So—for God’s sake—if you’re going to vanish again, at least send me a fucking text that tells me you’re alright.”

“Wow, Kevin.” Neil snorted. “Don’t bottle up your emotions, there.”

“You are a tiny, foul-mouthed asshole.” Kevin poked the side of his head. “When this is all done, I’m going to convince Andrew to let me strangle you. So don’t die doing his crazy schemes, alright?”

Neil softened slightly, hearing the shake in Kevin’s voice. They had been close, in the years between Mary and Nathan Wesninski’s deaths. “Kevin. I’m going to be fine.”

“That’s what you always say.” He said bitterly, as the elevator doors opened. 

Neil was expecting a blood-stained basement: He was not expecting an exuberant lounge. Black and red leather futons, chairs and sofas were clustered around a large television: fridges stocked with snacks and drinks, many alcoholic, were crowded in the corner. A blonde woman wearing high-heels and a wicked grin was aiming a pistol at a younger man with curly hair and brown skin. 

“What in fuck’s name are you doing? Allison, don’t you fucking dare shoot him.” Kevin snapped. 

“Sorry, little-boss.” Allison sneered. “Just proving I’m a good shot.” She fired the gun without even looking: The apple on top of the young man’s head exploded, and he screamed, before yelling with hysteria. 

“Fuck yeah!” He high-fived Allison. “Hey, is this new meat? Hi, I’m Nicky! Short for Nicholas. I’m the resident arsonist. If you ever need one. You’re hot enough to light your own fires though, aren’t you?” He winked.

“Uh,” Neil stammered. 

“Fraud, laundering and master of seduction.” Allison held her hand out. Neil took it hesitantly. “Hey, Dan! Rookie’s here to join us in the pit!” Her laugh was like a cackle. 

The door opened: Dan was a haughty woman with short hair and gold hoops, dangling from her ears. Following her was the man Neil had seen earlier: Matt, from what he’d heard. Following him was someone who looked identical to Andrew, but wearing an apron and gloves. There was a smear of blood on his cheek as he took his gloves off. 

Finally, the senior Foxes arrived in an elevator with Andrew. Wymack, tall, broad and gruff, was dressed in a button-down, the tie at his throat loosened and cuffs popped and rolled. The woman beside him wore an engagement ring: His fiance. She had flour on her apron, and was smiling brightly. She was who Neil’d seen a mere five minutes ago in the kitchen. 

The Foxes went like this: Wymack, Dan and Andrew ran the Tower, and all the fuckery that happened within its walls. Wymack was backed by Abby, a medic who was training Aaron, Andrew’s twin brother. Andrew was backed by Kevin: Dan was backed by Matt. Matt, Seth, Jack, Sheena, Aaron and Brian formed the thugs, who handled the laborious tasks. Allison swindled those in higher places, Nicky created chaos and was expert at cyber-crimes. 

“And what’s your name, mind me asking?” A gentle voice came from the shadows. 

Renee Walker, nee. Natalie Shields, was the most dangerous out of the Foxes’ fodder—aside from Andrew. She was the most contradictory, her dress sweeping her ankles and the sweater pulled over her fingers. A cross hung at her neck. Her hair was naturally black, seen with her roots, but it was bleached silver and dyed various pastel colours. She, too, was infamous for her successful assassinations. She had been Neil, once. Andrew’s secret weapon. 

Neil grit his teeth. He had worked so hard to craft this perfect balance, where everyone knew his name but barely anyone knew his face. If they did, they knew never to step out of line. Kevin, Roland, Katelyn: They would never betray him. They’d seen what happened to those who tried. 

“Well?” Andrew encouraged, almost with a sneer. 

Admitting who he was would put him at risk. Somehow, however, he felt he could trust Andrew. Or, at least, Andrew’s protection. That would have to be future Neil's issue. 

“Hello.” Neil said, careful. “I’m Neil Josten.”


	4. The First Strike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month later,

“Are you going to explain how the fuck you managed to bag Neil Josten?” Dan had to jog to keep up with Andrew’s stride, despite being head and shoulders taller. “I mean, he’s been the most sought-after criminal, from _both_ sides of the law. Those stunts with the Wesninski bodies—he’s surely got some guts.”

“He’s got a terrible attitude.” Andrew muttered. 

A month had passed with Neil Josten somewhat under Andrew’s thumb, and he’d proven to be nothing but useful. As of yet. 

Dan bit at her thumb, a nervous tell that he wasn’t bothered to warn her about. “Matt told me something. About when he warned you about the birds. That Neil had—“

“Yes, a pair of human hands he’d severed for me as a display of loyalty. Tell your boy not to open his mouth about what happens in my office.”

“Sounds like you’re made for each other, you tiny fucking assholes.” Dan muttered. 

Andrew glanced up to where Neil would be hidden, atop of Evermore Luxuries where he had vantage through the glass ceiling of the penthouse, to signal Andrew when Riko was on the move. Dan and Andrew were situated nearby to lure Riko out, as Allison swept through the crowds upstairs and Nicky and Brian situated explosives in the basement. The main vault was nowhere near here, residing at the Nest, a multi-layered pleasure establishment that housed the worst of their dealings, and was where many Ravens lived and breathed. 

The security was immense, as Neil and Renee had worked on discovering every intricate detail, only to discover more twists and turns. First, the security cameras had recognition footage. That meant Neil, Kevin, Wymack, Renee, Andrew (and thus Aaron), Matt, Dan and Allison were unable to reveal themselves, and couldn’t be involved. Nicky and Brian were most adept with explosives, but the manoeuvring of said explosives had to be performed by the younger, flimsier Foxes. Seth pulled Jack along, to be supervised by Abby, the medic and younger Fox dressed as servers and Seth dressed as maintenance personnel. He would deliver the explosives downstairs, where Nicky and Brian would have crawled through air vents accessed on the outside. Sheena was there to cover their escape and survey the area for when they needed to escape. 

Jack and Abby would be serving poisoned meals to very important people upstairs: Investors in Kengo’s shares and investments: It’d be blamed immediately on Riko, which would surely get his father’s attention. When all parties at hand were in close vicinity, in a week or less, Andrew would have his chance. Kill Kengo and his son, Ichirou. Have Tetsuji as his puppet, and Riko at his mercy. Kevin was Riko’s next of kin, and the Ravens would be disbanded, any disgruntled members quickly dispatched. The Moriyama fortune would be salvaged by the Hatfords, of whom were looking for an opportunity to set up in the Americas. Andrew was selling them something they couldn’t resist. 

But first, to destroy a hierarchy, you had to destabilise the castle. 

Andrew’s phone began to ring. He answered it immediately. 

“Glad to see you’re using your new phone.”

“Would have been a waste of your money otherwise.” Neil said breezily. “Meals have been served. Give them ten minutes.”

“That’s too long.” Dan protested. “Nicky and Brian’ll be caught, the cargo uncovered.”

“They’re not eating.” Neil said. “Why do rich people eat so reluctantly? There’s enough cyanide in that to kill you with one bite. Come on.” 

They waited, waited, waited. Andrew counted to seventy two seconds. Dan was getting distress codes from Sheena. When Neil finally said: “Allison, Seth and Abby are clear. Go. It’s time.” Andrew let go of the breath he’d been holding.

The ground shook, as dust billowed out from under the building, which meant Nicky and Brian had detonated it outside of the building. Alarms sounded immediately, but Dan and Andrew had already jogged away. The streets of Columbia were familiar only through rigorous examination, but Andrew saw the route in front of him with perfect clarity. 

“I’m running away from a crumbling building.” Nicky crowed with a grin. “Like in the movies, when they walk away from a fiery explosion. Am I cool? Do I look cool?”

“You’re ridiculous.” Aaron informed him. “Is everyone okay?”

“Brian will refuse to show you, and even though I gave a solemn oath to not tell, you actually should look at it.” Nicky shrugged at Brian’s glare. “Sorry hon. I said I wouldn’t tell him you’d fallen out of the air vent, not that you shouldn’t get help.” He grimaced. “Oops.”

Brian stomped petulantly until Andrew gave him a sharp glare. 

Matt’s truck swung around just in time for Neil’s arrival. At the sight of his girlfriend, safe and sound, he relaxed: At the sight of Neil, he perked up. “Hey, buddy!” 

“Love you, too.” Dan said wryly, kissing him on the cheek as she clambered into the front. Andrew watched everyone load in, quietly satisfied by his success. A mere few streets away was chaos as the hotel evacuated: There would be no fatalities, with the structure of the hotel still sound. No fatalities except Kengo’s prized investors. Such a shame, really. 

Andrew had a few more plans to fuck with Riko’s head. He straightened his suit, checking his watch before strolling down the street. His car was parked another ten minutes away, having surveyed a larger circle prior to everyone else’s arrival. 

Familiar footsteps echoed on the pavement behind him. When he wanted to be, Neil could be silent. Spooking Andrew was not a desired reaction: That’d result with a knife buried in his throat. He sidled up to Andrew slowly, falling in step with him. 

“Are you working tonight?” Usually he didn’t make the habit of small talk. He was just intrigued. About the whereabouts of his asset. Nothing more. 

Neil shrugged. “Do you need me?”

Andrew saw Neil in that skin-tight, high-neck bodysuit. And those fucking fishnets. Fucking hell. “You’re free to go.”

“I…” Neil’s face spasmed with confusion. “I don’t understand. I assumed you weren’t put off by the scars, but you still haven’t…” His fingers clenched into fists. “Asked. Why not? You’re clearly interested.”

It brought Andrew to a staggering halt. “Neil.” He tried to hide the tremor of anger in his voice. He really did. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

“I’m a night-boy.” He shrugged. “It comes with the job, though I avoid it when I can.”

Andrew grabbed him by the collar, yanking him down. “You are so stupid. You’re my spy, and my weapon. I did not hire you as my whore: If I’d wanted one, I certainly wouldn’t have gone for such a fucking loud mouth.”

Neil smiled weakly. “You still can. If you want.”

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Andrew demanded. “Don’t lie to me.”

Slowly, Neil shook his head. He stepped back, but Andrew knew Neil wasn’t afraid of him. Perhaps it was shame. 

“Then it’s a no.” Andrew straightened his suit once more. “And that doesn’t change anything.” He kept walking. “Like I said, you’re free to go.”

“I don’t want to.” He admitted, catching up with Andrew. “I—I don’t talk to anyone. Out of fear, out of preservation, out of stubbornness, I don’t know. But I have realised I quite enjoy our discussions.” He looked at Andrew from under his fringe. “I was thinking you were—courting me, or something. I was very confused.”

“This is the twenty-first century.” Andrew drawled. “Come on, Josten. We’ll talk on the way home.” 

Andrew hated the spark that his words elicited in Neil’s eye. He hated him. Loud-mouthed, quick-fingered Neil Josten, who could kill without batting his eye, and was learning to navigate the world at 24, instead of 5. Andrew had watched how the Foxes lured him in, like they had with Renee when she’d been Natalie. Their kindness tempered the angriest of souls, and they would teach Neil how to stay. Andrew would keep him alive, and gift him with the Moriyamas bound and gagged, and then Columbia and Baltimore would be theirs for the keeping. 

Andrew had never expected anything from Neil, and refused to regret nor ponder. He wouldn’t let Neil wallow in self pity, either. 

He drove, baring his wrists with stories of foster homes, of bad luck and bad decisions. Neil did much the same. Andrew sent him a side-long glance as he leant his head against the window to close his eyes. 

_Dangerous_ , he reminded himself. 

And yet, that was probably what Andrew was drawn to the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another short chapter. What can I say: I'm stingy :D


	5. Rash Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil makes a cut throat decision. 
> 
> (non-con elements)

Neil twiddled his thumbs nervously until he caught himself, clenching his fists in the soft material of the loose trousers. Sweatpants. Andrew had thrown them at him when he’d come, bloodied by a Raven who was up to no good and the gushing blood from his neck, without spare clothing. 

Now he sat in the Eden’s small dressing room, the one with the deadbolt and the soundproofing curtain, though that didn’t really help the noises from the club beneath and around him. He had ear plugs, for when he wanted to actually sleep. But he was too distracted.

These were Andrew’s sweatpants, and Andrew’s t-shirt, and he was wearing them as he fought with his night terrors, comforted by their softness. The looseness in the sleeves and shoulders, where Neil couldn’t fill them out. 

The Ravens were becoming harder and harder to ignore: Riko had become too bold, too daring, sending two different parties in attempt to withdraw Kevin, even though Kevin hadn’t been with Neil at the time. Neil had escaped the first, and killed the coordinating Raven as an example in the second. Dan and Wymack wanted to use force. Andrew wanted to infiltrate. Neil knew he was running out of time: It’d been too much to ask from him, protection from the Moriyamas. Riko was a useless outcast, but the Moriyama reach was vast and strong as steel. 

Neil couldn’t stand it. He got out of bed, hit the lights and yanked open his drawers. He rooted around for his red shirt, with a lace overlay: A gift from Katelyn that she’d forced him to accept. With ripped jeans, fishnets and his (now favourite—blood wiped off them with just a tissue) black, 6-inch boots, he simply dotted glitter across his cheek, hid his knives and set off. 

Anger simmered beneath his skin. He’d never let himself grow attached to a group of people before: This was why he never associated with any gangs. No affiliations. It was impossible to get by in these conditions if you started liking people, and if people started liking you. But Neil was a twitchy, strange thing, and the Foxes were most likely well sick of his antics by now. Being reckless wouldn’t change a thing. 

Three days ago they had blown the basement of the Evermore Luxuries hotel. Just yesterday, they’d found paintings of birds in blood across the commission painting of kitsunes in the Japanese spring. The police had been haggling them—Andrew, namely—for days, in regards to his possible affiliations with the Foxes, or other low-lifes. It was the only time Andrew ever lied, and he did so through his teeth. 

He waltzed into the main club area, where he knew there would be Ravens: Neutral territory, neutral stomping ground. He pulled a gimmick mask over his eyes—of a Fox—and went scouring for the first Raven tattoos he could see. 

It so happened to be a brutish looking woman, who acknowledged his presence immediately. Neil bypassed the bar on the way, holding his hand out for Roland’s keys. 

“What on earth are you up to?” The man laughed, watching Neil go. Neil lured her out, waltzing down the pavement. He heard the scrape of heavy boots and turned. 

She was incredibly close to him, grabbing his shoulders and throwing him against the wall. She plastered herself across him, fingers skimming what little bare skin was showing. She was undecided between taking off the mask, too stupid to figure out what it meant, and pulling down his jeans. She was struggling with the first and went to the second, but Neil brandished a knife between them. Her hands were too cold, and he wanted to cut off each of her fingers, one by one. She stumbled back, hands fumbling for a gun. Neil was quicker: She slowly put up her hands as he pointed the pistol under her chin.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” She demanded. “The Monster’s whore. Doing all that sneaking around.”

“Actually, it’s a formal, and consensual, business arrangement.” Neil spun the knife in his fingers. “Not that you’d understand. What did you do to owe the Ravens?” 

“Riko is worthy of my loyalty, regardless of what I owe.” She hissed. “He’s crime royalty, compared to the likes of you. Success is in his pocket. You’ll never win.”

“Take me to see him, then.” Neil crooned. “I’ll wager a surrender.”

She blanched. “You—really?” 

“My car’s right here.” He tapped Roland’s shitty sedan. “Let’s go.” 

She neared him, but he held up a hand. “Just a second, gotta blow my nose.” He yanked out the cloth and doused it with chloroform, kept in the driver’s door of Roland’s car. Neil had put it there eons ago. He spun around to kick in her knees and she collapsed with a yelp: Her struggling weakened with the press of chloroform over her mouth, until she was almost a corpse Neil bound and threw into the backseat of the car. 

Then he drove to the Nest. 

It was a sinister place, in ways Eden was not. All the red and black, for one. The curtained windows, the lack of activity outside on the street contradicting the way the building trembled with music and cackles of laughter. 

Neil cut the woman’s bindings and slapped her until she woke up, drowsy but able to walk. He grabbed her by the hair, hauled her up, and stormed head-first into the building. 

No one noticed, not at first, not until the twist of the woman’s hair elicited a scream from her. Neil still wore his mask: If he could avoid showing his features, he would.

“Bring the bastard Moriyama here.” He hated his father’s smile, but it curled his lips out of his own will. “Bring him here, or I’ll cut her throat.”

The music was cut, a deadly silence replaced with chaotic cacophony around him. He was in a little bubble of safety: No one neared him, save if they wanted the woman’s throat slit. Kevin was going to absolutely murder him for this stunt. Andrew and Dan, too. 

Neil saw the man before he saw Neil. “Riko. Can I even call you Moriyama? You’ve no claim to that name. Especially with that stunt. Poisoning your father’s business prospects? That’s rather stupid.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Riko snapped. “Shut the _fuck up_. Who are you? Show yourself.” 

“Doesn’t matter who I am.” Neil said softly. “You’ve upset many powerful people. You have your father’s attention, except all you’ve managed is to taunt and jeer. Your hotel is crumbling. Your faction’s loyalty, too. You are no Moriyama, and anyone who believes you have even a slither of your father’s power is deluding themselves.”

“You are just a child.” Riko sneered. “You’re that spy of Minyard’s, aren’t you. His new plaything. This is very bold of someone so fond of the shadows. You wouldn’t kill her: You don’t have the guts.”

“Are you willing to test that?” Neil laughed. Christ, Riko was a piece of work. “Promise you’ll surrender and I’ll let her live.”

“Surrender!” Riko snarled. “I’ll never fucking surrender. You have something that’s mine, and I’ll get it back. That and the city, too.” 

“You’d rather I slit a loyal Ravens’ throat, in front of your dozens of unknowing patrons? Over pride?” Neil shook his head. “You are deplorable, Riko Moriyama. Remember this!” Neil shouted, angry once more. “Remember that this is how he sees you! As expendable, as nothing but cannon fodder for his bigger schemes. If you think he will protect you, he won't!” He leaned into the woman’s ear as she whimpered. “Remember what you said to me, about Riko’s worthiness? Bet you’re having second thoughts now.”

She was too late in replying, so Neil cut her throat and threw her onto the floor. 

“You dare spill blood on Raven soil!” Riko roared. “Kill him! Bring his corpse to me!”

“This just got very medieval,” Neil laughed as he dashed outside. Gunshots rang out and he abandoned Roland’s car—he’d get him a better one with the money he was earning—and did what he did best. 

Run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was the pun in the chapter summary too much?????


	6. Retaliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riko strikes back.

Andrew was sat on his bed, reading. The thud on his balcony had him withdrawing his gun, chucking his reading glasses aside quickly. The familiar figure of Neil Josten appeared at his balcony door, except he was incredibly tall: He was wearing those fucking boots again. Andrew hated those stupid fucking boots. 

He opened the door, but Neil stayed outside, a fox mask clutched in his hand, blood splattered across his face, and a sheepish turn to his frown. 

“What did you do?” Andrew demanded. “I thought I gave you no work.” 

“Towel.” Neil demanded. “I’m not cleaning blood out of your carpet again.” 

Andrew’s lips quirked and he grabbed a towel: Neil cleaned off what he could, and stepped inside. Andrew’s motor skills hesitated as he witnessed what Neil was wearing, the tight red shirt that brought out the flush in his eyes and the blood-red of his auburn hair. His eyes were striking, glitter on his cheeks simply enhancing the silvery-blue. 

“I may have slit someone’s throat in front of a club crowd.” Neil confessed. “In Columbia. In the Nest. Taunting Riko.” 

Andrew closed his eyes. “Your stupidity knows no bounds.”

“Yeah.” Neil said, tiredly. “Couldn’t sleep. Murder was the next best thing.”

Andrew rubbed his temples. “So you went, killed a—Raven, I assume—in front of Riko, and escaped in your six-inch heels. After taunting him. And traumatising the crowd. Wearing that shitty fox mask, in hopes of _what_ , exactly?”

“A futile attempt to get Riko to surrender.” Neil shrugged. “Sowed that seed of doubt in the Ravens though, doubt he can’t afford right now. He doesn’t know who I am, other than that you picked me up from a strip-club and brought me home to join your band of merry do-gooders.”

“You are going to get yourself killed.” Andrew snapped. “Stop making my job harder than it already is.” 

“You can let me go.” Neil offered. “I don’t mind.” 

Andrew grabbed him by the back of his neck. “I don’t break my fucking promises. I’m going to kill him, I’m going to kill _all_ of them. You’ll find a new enemy to fill that space in your life, undoubtedly, and I’ll kill them, too. I’ll kill them all, until either one of us gets picked off.”

“Kindest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Neil muttered. 

“Go to bed.” Andrew pressed the heels of his hands into his sockets. “I can’t tolerate how obtuse you are any longer. Borrow clothes from me: I’ll be back in five. If you’re not in bed, I’ll cut your tongue out. That’d keep you from causing trouble.”

“You’d miss it.” Neil said tiredly, dropping onto his bed to unzip his boots. Andrew slammed his bedroom door behind him. 

_He doesn’t want sex._

Andrew straightened, his alarmingly impulsive desires put back in their place. Locking his office door behind him, he went to bang on Dan’s door. 

“Christ alive, Minyard.” She said blearily, through a cracked door. “What is it?”

“Neil.” He said, flatly, pushing his way into her room.

Matt was in just his boxers. “Neil?” He tittered. “Is he okay? What happened?”

“He just slit a Raven’s throat in front of Riko, in the middle of Riko’s club, and made it back alive to tell the tale, that’s what fucking happened.” Andrew said. “Someone wake Kevin and Wymack, won’t you?”

“He did _what_?” Matt blanched. 

When the Foxes’ senior cronies were gathered in Dan’s apartment — and Matt had pulled on a shirt — Andrew relayed the basics. They’d need damage control, and they’d need it now. As for Neil: Shift protection. No one outside the Foxes was to know of him. Andrew was tempted to go buy a leash for the man, but figured that’d trigger few too many questions from the crew. 

“Neil’s upped the stakes.” Wymack said. “You know what this means. It’s now or never.”

“Allison needs to get onto publicity immediately. We need to preserve his identity the best we can.” Dan ground her teeth. “Andrew, is Higgins still corrupt?”

“Sure is.” Andrew drawled. “I’ll give him a ring at three in the morning, shall I?”

Dan threw him a flat look. “Yeah, that’s exactly what you’ll do.”

“Who’s syndicate is this, Dan?”

“We’re a fucking team.” She snapped. “Be possessive over Neil all you like, but you introduced him to us: Don’t expect us to sit around and twiddle our thumbs.” 

Andrew simply looked at her, until she looked away. A muscle in Wymack’s cheek ticked as he looked between the two of them. 

“We’ll reconvene in the morning.” Wymack said. “Andrew, don’t let that boy leave your room.”

Andrew thought that’d be easy. Turns out, he was dead wrong. 

“You don’t understand,” Neil snarled, volatile and tense. “I’ve lasted this long because I move around. Because I never stand still. They’ll find me if I stay here.”

“They will not.” Andrew repeated himself dully, standing between Neil and his balcony doors. He hated the way his own soft trousers hung on Neil’s hips, the way the shirt sagged off his shoulders, revealing scars that overlapped one another. 

“They will. I’m good as dead if I’m still here by morning.”

“Perhaps then maybe you’d think about the consequences of your actions.”

Neil shook his clenched fists at Andrew. “You’re infuriating!” 

“A taste of your own medicine?” Andrew cocked his head. 

Neil’s eye twitched. He went back to pacing across Andrew’s carpet. When his head snapped up, Andrew readied himself for another tirade. “I never signed a contract. I don’t have to be here if I don’t want to be.” 

“Correct.” Andrew said, arching an eyebrow. “But you’re under my protection. So you’ll stay here, until I deem it’s safe.”

“It will never be safe.” Neil fired. “That’s the whole fucking point. It’s _never_ safe.” 

Andrew was bored. “Get past me, and I’ll let you go.”

Neil scoffed. “You really think you’ll win? You’re a business man at best.”

Andrew spread his arms. “Show me.”

They stood in front of each other in the middle of Andrew’s carpet. Neil watched as he carefully shed the knives from under his armbands, and gestured for Neil to do the same. Even in minimum clothing, he had copious weapons hidden on his person. When they were both clear, Andrew stood at arm’s length.

“Well?” He offered. “I’ll let you take first hit.”

“I don’t need your charity.” Neil sneered, but he took it anyway. It landed on Andrew’s jaw, but the throb barely registered. 

That was the only hit Neil landed on him: Andrew blocked his every move, and landed double his attempts on Neil’s lithe frame. The novelty of Andrew actually being a good fighter only destabilised Neil for a fractional moment, before he quickened his footwork and concentrated. 

Neil was too fast to pin down. Andrew remembered how fast he’d been, on the drugs, fighting with Renee. They still fought, often bi-weekly, but Andrew found himself wishing for his previous haste. In the end, Andrew shouldn’t have worried. Neil had no stamina, becoming sloppy quickly and losing ground. Andrew threw him over his shoulder—a cheat tactic, really—and heard the laugh in Neil’s yell. He threw Neil onto his bed, and with one hand pinning him to the mattress, he grabbed the cuffs from his bedside drawers and locked Neil to his headboard. 

Neil looked at the cuffs with thinly veiled irritation. “Really?”

“Now that you know picking a fight with me was a stupid idea, I’d like to have a nap.”

“I can pick my way out of anything.” Neil breathed heavily, yanking on the cuffs. They rattled against Andrew’s headboard: Neil frowned at them. 

“Yes, and with what picks?” Andrew let himself smirk. “The drawers in your vicinity are locked. There are no sharp objects within reach. And unless you have a bobby pin in your hair—“ Andrew took the chance to kneel on the bed, pressing a hand against Neil’s chest as he combed through Neil’s soft, still damp curls with the other. “—I think you’ll have some trouble.”

“I fucking hate you.” He said. 

Andrew looked down to see his asset pinned underneath him, flushed and gazing up at him with something intangible. Andrew yanked himself away, stumbling across the room, straightening his sleep clothes. He heard Neil shuffle into a seat position and looked over his shoulder. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” The idiot asked. 

Andrew said nothing. Neil didn’t ask twice: It wasn’t until Andrew heard him shuffle into a horizontal position, his breathing slowly evening out, that he let himself sit in a near arm chair and get some rest. 

*

A scream woke him. 

Andrew shot up instantly: Blearily, he looked around. Neil was just as weary, sitting awkwardly because of the cuffed hand. Andrew shuffled over to unlock it, and briefly held Neil’s wrist, inspecting it for damage. Neil looked up at him with that strange, puppy-like expression that he remembered from last night. Andrew dropped his hand and stalked away. 

“What the fuck?” Dan yelled down the stairs. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Seth.” Matt panted. Beside him, Renee’s hands were clenched into fists and she looked just as ruffled. It was odd, seeing Renee perturbed. A brief moment passed between the two of them. “He’s dead. Overdosed in his room.”

“What?” Dan snapped. “He was clean.” She looked at Andrew, eyes widening. “Riko.” 

Andrew pushed through the gathering Foxes into Seth’s room: He shared with Matt, but Allison hung out often enough that most of her things were strewn around. The man in question was face-down in the bathroom, a puddle of vomit surrounding his head in a disturbing halo. Allison knelt beside him, face blank but tears streaming down her cheeks, stained with mascara. 

Andrew slammed the door shut and knelt beside Seth’s body. 

“He didn’t overdose.” Allison said, her gaze hollowed and voice raw. “He didn’t. He was clean.”

“I know.” Andrew said. “Neil murdered a Raven in front of him last night. This is Riko’s retaliation.”

Allison said nothing for a moment. “You’ll let me have my turn, won’t you? When you kill him?”

Andrew was almost amused. “Neil?”

Allison scoffed. “Riko.”

Andrew stood up. “You’ll be first in line. Let Renee know when you’re ready. I’ll lock the door.”

She nodded silently.

The commotion outside the bathroom came to a lull when Andrew reappeared. He settled his deadly gaze across the group, until it landed on Neil, who was stood out in the hallway, in the shadows of a corner, shoulders curled inwards. 

“Alright,” Wymack crowed. “Back to business, everyone! The fucker overdosed, end of story. Get lost. Renee, look after her. Andrew, Neil, Dan, up to my office.”

Andrew grabbed Neil by the scruff of his neck, hauling him up the stairs. When Wymack slammed the door shut behind him, Neil winced. The younger man noticed Andrew’s heavy stare, and refused to look up off the ground.

“Neil,” Wymack said. “What you did was reckless. Stupid. You could have got yourself killed, taken into their custody and tortured, or worse. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Dan put a gentle hand on his shoulder and he jolted, the unexpected kindness confusing him. He glanced at Wymack. “I got Seth killed. I’m sorry.” 

“Seth overdosed. Could have been Riko, could not have, but that’s bullshit we’ll feed to the young ones. Riko could have gone for one of the busy-bodies, like you had. Instead, he shot at someone way higher in the heirarchy. That wasn’t your fault.” 

Still, Andrew reminisced, Neil would never have had to deal with the consequences of his actions like this before. It’d be a mental barrier he would be forced to confront every time he came to a breaking point. He’d no longer be able to kill without conscience. 

Andrew, who was torn between denying his infatuation with Neil extended beyond a physical attraction, and needing Neil to be a ruthless weapon who would do as he instructed, was unable to decide whether or not this newfound conscience was good or bad for Neil. 

“Look, you might not believe what I say,” Wymack said, too perceptive for his own good. “Yeah, don’t look at me like a lost puppy, Josten. I know avoidance when I see it. But I’m not gonna let you shoulder the blame for this. Riko is a stupid, narcissistic coward, and he’s gone and dug himself into a hole with that one. You did good.”

“A Fox is dead.” Neil echoed. “I am not a Fox, but I inadvertently killed one. If they ever figure out that it wasn’t an overdose, they’ll think it’s betrayal.”

“You’ve never signed a contract, but that doesn’t mean you’re not a Fox.” Dan said fiercely. “You didn’t kill Seth: Riko did. We’re with you, Neil.”

Andrew almost wanted to laugh at how Neil flailed in the face of kindness, and acceptance. “You’re kidding.”

“Of course I’m not.” Dan grit her teeth. “I’m not glad he’s dead. But he certainly didn’t make things easier. All we can do now is move forward.”

It was the cruel silver lining of a terrible situation. Andrew rolled his head around to Wymack, signalling to the man that he was bored, and so Wymack dismissed both Neil and Dan. Andrew pulled the door shut behind them, leaving him alone with the older man.

“Did you order him to kill that Raven?” He demanded, leaning his fists on his desk. 

“He’s getting antsy.” Andrew shrugged. “Doesn’t like staying in one place for too long. Ride this whilst you can. He’s going to flee at the first available moment.”

“Make him stay. Whatever way you can.” Wymack insisted. “We can’t afford to lose anyone else. Get him to talk to a fucking therapist whilst you’re at it: As soon as he hears my footsteps, he starts shitting himself.”

“Sure thing, coach.” Andrew said dryly. 

Outside, Neil was shaking like a leaf in autumn winds. 

“Thought you might have taken the chance, junkie.” Andrew murmured. “My room. Come on.”

Neil went straight out onto Andrew’s balcony as soon as the door was locked behind them. Andrew lit two cigarettes, Neil taking and shielding his carefully against the breeze. It was still early in the morning, the sun barely poking over the horizon. 

“Do you think Allison’ll forgive me?” He said, mind a million miles away. 

“Stop caring about what other people think.” Andrew let the smoke tendrils curl through the air between them. “What’s done is done.”

Neil sagged against the railing. “I’ve never cared before.” His cigarette was wilting. “I should have never stayed. This is what happens.”

Andrew had to let this happen, he knew. An anxious Neil would be no use to him. “So leave.” 

Neil shot upright. “Seriously?”

Andrew slid his gaze over to him. “I don’t care what you do. But just so you know: If you leave and don’t come back by midnight, stay away. If you stay, you stay for good. Make your decision Josten: I won’t have mixed loyalties any longer.”

Neil said nothing. 

Andrew finished his cigarette, went back through his room and into his office. For a while he sat at his desk, twirling a knife around his fingers and thinking of all the ways he would force Riko Moriyama to pay for what he’d done. 

When he checked back into his room, Neil, and all traces of the man, were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oopsies


	7. Matyr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more plans go wrong!

Neil walked into the Tower lobby for the first time, and marvelled at the lush interior. It was almost empty, what with the time of day, but the lights were still on: A young Fox heretic was sat behind the counter, aware of Neil’s presence. 

He sauntered over eventually, taking his time to marvel at the new art piece that dominated the wall space behind reception: It was a fox, with a bloodied raven in its mouth. Beautiful, really. It filled his chest with something foreign. 

“What’s the time?” He tapped on the countertop. 

“11:58.” The young Fox said, quickly. She cowered away from him. “Did you want me to call for Mr Minyard, um—Mr Josten?”

“You’re Robin, aren’t you.” Neil asked. She was completely conventional in appearance. Brown hair, brown eyes, light skin, unassuming features that would keep her safe. Neil would have killed to look like that, once upon a time. 

She nodded hesitantly. 

“Just remember what time it was when I arrived.” Neil picked at his nails. “Otherwise Andrew’ll kick up a fuss. You’ll side with me, won’t you?”

“Against Andrew?” She stammered. 

“You’ll never get anywhere in a world like ours without a spine.” He rapped his knuckles against the computer screen. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“He’s going to skin me alive.” She breathed out, shuffling towards the elevator. She was taller than him, almost a whole head taller.

Neil rolled his eyes. “He’s a drama queen, isn’t he.”

“This is my death you’re talking about.” She sounded mildly panicked. “I don’t think Minyard’s even looked at me once since I’ve gotten here, and honestly, I think I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“Too late.” Neil shrugged. “You’re my alibi now.”

She stared at her feet sullenly. 

Neil brushed his fingers against the walls as he walked, reminiscing upon his reflection. It had taken him almost all day to decide, even though there was almost no other choice but to continue along this path. 

Returning to Eden’s, he sought out Katelyn, in hopes of her council. She sat expectantly, her lips constantly pouted with concern for him, as he explained the whole debacle. 

“I was scared of you, when you first arrived at my old club.” She confessed. “Even before I knew who you were. But you showed me where knives were most subtly hidden, where to stab if you didn’t want a death on your subconscious, where a man would hurt the most. I thought you were incredible. Remember the night the Moriyama lackey found you?”

Neil remembered vividly. They had held Katelyn by the throat, assuming they were lovers and that Neil would trade himself for her. Instead, she’d stabbed the man in his stomach and they’d fled together. 

“I still trusted you, even if I knew who you were and the things you’d done. Because you hadn’t done them out of some deep, sadistic desire to kill. They were hunting you. They would hurt you. Plus, a little flamboyance, a little presentation, never killed anyone. Though you probably traumatised their house-servants.” She’s punched his shoulder. “Seriously, Neil? Crosses over their eyes?”

“They’d deserved it.” Neil muttered. 

Katelyn was talking about the bodies of Romero and Lola Malcom, of DiMaccio and Jackson Plank. Their unsuccessful attempts to terminate him had resulted in Neil dumping their disfigured bodies on Kengo’s doorstep, much to the business man’s chagrin. That was a long while ago, now. Almost four years. 

Katelyn had continued, taking Neil’s cheeks into her hands. “I’d never seen you so care free, Neil. When you come home from escapades with your Foxes, you’re elated. This purpose fuels you, and it might just result in your freedom. I don’t think it is right to give it up, even if rash decision-making has created tension. It sounds like they want you to stay. Give them the chance to help you: You’ve been alone for so long.”

“Come with me?” Neil had bartered. “I cannot keep you safe, so far away.”

“I’ll consider it.” She had poked his nose. “Practise routines with me downstairs?”

Dancing with Katelyn felt as natural as training with her to fight. It’d been an-eye-for-an-eye: Neil taught her how to protect herself. Katelyn taught him how to dance. Seeing as they were experts in their respective fields, trading skills was simple. 

They spent the next hours filling time, knife-throwing and dancing. The club opened but it was Neil’s night off. His deadline was midnight, so he took four shots at eight o’clock, barred himself into his room and fell asleep until eleven. 

“Don’t fucking abandon my car in Raven territory again, got it?” Roland couldn’t be threatening if he’d tried. Neil had simply rolled is eyes, snatching the keys from Roland’s outstretched hand, and driven himself to the Tower. 

Now he was here, stood outside Andrew’s office with Robin’s quivering frame next to him. 

He shoved the door open, and barked out a laugh. 

The chair was facing away from him, in true villainous form: Minyard was too short to be seen over the chair. 

“If you swivel around and you’re stroking a cat, I’ll give you Baltimore for free.” Neil offered. 

Andrew swung his chair around, glaring at Josten. “You’re late. What is she doing here.”

“He arrived downstairs at 11:58.” Robin said, linking her fingers together as she bowed her head. 

“An orthodox entrance, just for you.” Neil hopped over his desk to stand between Andrew’s stretched legs. “I’m here. Ta-da.” 

“I’ll go.” Robin said stiffly, swivelling on her heel to shut the door behind her quickly. 

“Took your time.” Andrew muttered, and Neil was reminded of a conversation they’d had, a while ago. Neil’s first visit to the Tower, with Proust’s hands and half-promises of loyalty. 

“Wanted to make the right decision.” He shrugged. “Consider my plethora of options. Die, die, maybe die, die painfully, escape as a hermit, and die.” 

“And which is this?” Andrew leaned forward slightly. 

Neil smiled. “I’ve decided that it doesn’t matter. I’m here now, boss.”

“Andrew.” Andrew corrected him. 

“Monster.” Neil brushed his fingertips along Andrew’s jaw. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Neil felt Andrew’s gaze upon him as he left. 

* 

The decimation of Riko Moriyama was broken into four remaining parts. Infiltration, extraction, humiliation and execution.

Neil, much to his surprise, was allowed into an orchestration meeting. He remained glued to the wall, unsure of himself. Allison appeared hollowed out but determined when faced with Riko’s death. Neil wondered if she knew of him. If she blamed him for Seth’s death. 

“Neil.” Andrew snapped his fingers. “Pay attention.”

“I am.” He said awkwardly, knotting his fingers together. 

Andrew rose a single eyebrow. 

“I was asking you,” Wymack cleared his throat. “If you would consider overseeing Matt and Dan’s infiltration of the Nest. Matt will be attending as a client, Dan as a newly recruited dancer.”

“She’s too recognisable.” Kevin shook his head. “It won’t work.”

“You said never again, Dan.” Matt held onto her shoulder.

She shrugged him off. “If Wymack needs me to, it doesn’t matter what I said. They know Hennessy: They don’t know Wilds.”

“So, what,” Andrew put his feet onto the table, much to Wymack’s chagrin. “Matt goes in there, attracting Riko’s attention by spending tonnes of money, and then pawns Dan off onto him?”

“Riko won’t want Dan.” Kevin said quietly. “He likes blonde women, shorter than he is. Or,” He coughed. “Submissive men.”

“Neil’s out, then.” Dan said wryly. “So, you’re saying we send Matt in, instead? He has the seduction capabilities of a rhinocerous.”

“Hey!” 

“I love you anyway.” Dan promised. “I just don’t think it’d work.”

Neil stood away from the wall. “I might have an idea.”

*

“Nice,” Katelyn said appreciatively, looking at Neil’s get-up. His hair was brown, courtesy of Allison’s temporary dye, and his scars were covered by silicon and makeup. His eyes bore brown contacts, and when Neil looked in the mirror, he didn’t abhor his appearance. Except for the collar. That was rather humiliating. “Are you ready?”

Neil shrugged. 

“Alright there, Neil?” Dan was straightening Matt’s blazer. They sat in Roland’s shitty sedan. Neil really needed to get around to getting him something new, out of thanks for his hospitality. 

“I’m fine.” He said automatically. 

Katelyn had been oddly eager to be involved, even with the possibility of being pawned off onto Riko. The whole scene had been mildly contrived. She, Neil, Andrew, Kevin, Dan, Matt and Roland sat in Neil’s dressing room at Eden's, discussing details. Roland was agreeing to everything, including borrowing his car, escaping back to Eden’s Twilight to shake off any tailing Ravens. He only had eyes for Andrew. Kevin discussed the Nest layout with Katelyn and Matt, but Neil was unable to concentrate. He’d promised Andrew that’d he’d stay, but would he have Roland replace him as soon as Andrew grew bored of him? How soon would that be?

Payments were settled, aliases and backup plans laid out, and it was done. Katelyn would take Dan’s place in seducing Riko. She was perfect for the role, even if her blonde hair wasn’t her natural colour. Andrew and Roland left earlier than the others, and Neil let himself curl into a ball in the corner of his room after the scheming was over. 

“Is my Neil Josten jealous?” Katelyn barked out a laugh. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Not jealous.” Neil insisted. Jealousy was for infatuations and feelings. Neil couldn’t afford those: He just simply wanted a secure place, by Andrew’s side. What if Roland disturbed that?

He’d barely seen Andrew between hitching Katelyn on board, and the day of action. Katelyn was dressed appropriately upon arrival at the Tower, the few bits of material she wore covered by a red coat that matched her shoes. The plan itself wasn’t as fool proof as Neil desired, but seeing as it was reconnaissance, it was as good a plan as any. Neil was Matt’s plaything, and Matt would ask for somewhere private. Payments could be negotiated, depending on whether or not you had something Riko would want. A bug would be planted on Katelyn, and whatever information she could squeeze out of Riko would be up for grabs. Meanwhile, Matt would keep an eye out as Neil scoped the Nest out, in search of anything that’d expose the Ravens and destroy the Moriyama reputation. 

They all climbed into Roland’s car and set off for Columbia. Neil kept his nervous fidgeting to a minimum. 

“Absolutely stunning.” Dan said approvingly, dusting off her man’s shoulders. “You’ll all kick ass. Remember your covers?”

“Katherine Smith.” Katelyn fluttered her eyelashes. “I’m willing to do anything for money. I’m just trying to make ends meet.” Neil choked on a laugh, at which she scowled. “Hey, it always works.”

“Donovan Boyle.” Matt cracked his knuckles. “I’m getting divorced and am here to drown my sorrows. And this is Travis.” He gestured to Neil before frowning. “You don’t seem like a Travis.”

“It’s a stupid name.” Neil agreed. “Besides, you’ll just be calling me by derogatory terms. That’s how it goes in there, so the name doesn’t really matter.”

Matt flinched. “I don’t think I can do that. To either of you. This is going to be fucking awful.”

“Who put you up for this?” Katelyn clucked her tongue. “You’re too soft.”

“We don’t trust anyone else who isn’t recognisable.” Dan said stiffly. “Seth would have worked well. But he’s gone.”

“I’ll be fine.” Matt promised. “I just hope you both remember that I don’t mean it.”

“I’ve been called worse things by closer people.” Katelyn waved off his concerns. “Don’t get your dick in a twist, Boyd.”

Dan parked a fair distance away, so Neil pulled on a new coat, courtesy of Nicky, before clambering out. The collar was almost suffocatingly tight around his neck, and Neil remembered why he hated wearing them: If he was serving drinks at Eden’s, wearing borrowed harnesses, people would snap and yank at them as he walked past. His throat worked as he swallowed, but he waved off Matt’s concern. 

Walking down the street, the Nest loomed in the distance. It’d been almost a week since he was here last, and he didn’t hate the place any less. He felt no remorse for the Even who had felt him up and proceeded to wax poetry on Riko’s worthiness. He regretted forcing Riko’s hand and his consequential involvement in Seth’s dead, but he didn’t regret antagonising the bastard. 

Matt had called prior to arrival to notify the Nest of his alleged importance, and the promise of money. When he arrived at the Nest’s front doors, all it took was a flash of his ID for the security staff to stand a little straighter as they escorted him and his two pets past the dance floor, the bars, staircases that wound upwards, various alcoves for semi-secludedness. 

It was further than Neil had gotten when he’d pulled his stunt, being barely a few feet in front of the main door. They were guided up a dimly lit staircase, Neil and Katelyn ordered to keep their heads down until they arrived. 

Neil scouted the area the best he could. There was constantly someone shuffling through the corridors, dressed in a random assortment of garments. Neil wouldn’t stick out, not when the Ravens cycled through rookies like nobodies’ business. 

The room itself was small, with lush carpets and a loveseat and matching armchair, positioned in front of a fire place. The lack of bed was surprising to Neil, but his experiences were pretty limited.

“Riko Moriyama extends his welcome to all patrons of the Nest.” Their escort said. “Payment is required up front.”

“I’d like to discuss it with the owner.” Matt said. “I have an offer for him.”

The escort nodded. “I will retrieve him for you.” 

When the door clicked shut, Matt relaxed and dropped onto the couch, scrubbing his hand over his face.

“First part done, big boy.” Katelyn patted his chest as she nestled beside him. “It’s only going to get harder from here.”

Matt craned his neck around, loosening the tie. “I know. I think I’ve got this. Neil, what the fuck are you doing?”

Neil was kneeling by Matt’s knees on the floor. He rose a singular eyebrow. “I’m your submissive. I’m literally wearing a collar, Matt. Have you never been to a proper club?”

“Christ, I thought this couldn’t get any worse.” Matt’s lip curled. “Dan’d be rife with jealousy.”

“It’s more convincing.” Katelyn promised. “It’s all for appearances, Donovan.” Her voice was like silk, and Matt nodded stiffly. Neil gave his knee a pity pat. 

The door flew open, and Katelyn paused her fussing, Neil holding onto Matt’s leg. 

Neil had never seen Riko Moriyama in close proximity like this before. He was short, taller than Neil was, but still short, emphasised by the guards that flanked him. The club’s red lights gleamed in his dark eyes, a permanent sneer etched into his facade. He was dressed elegantly, suit pressed and well fitted. The guards stood watch outside as the door banged shut, and they were alone with him. 

“Welcome to the Nest, what was it, Mr Brown?” Riko took his rest delicately on the armchair. Neil wanted to lean away, but resisted the urge. Barely. 

“Boyle.” Matt corrected him. “Donovan Boyle. I must say, your place is rather enticing.”

“I suppose it is.” Riko flicked his fingers. “I don’t respond to flattery, Mr Boyle. I hope you were aware of the rates we charge.”

“Most certainly.” Matt smiled easily. “I thought I would appease you with a thank you gift. Katherine’s mine, and very well behaved. I’d be happy to lend her for the night.” He gestured at Katelyn. “For your hospitality.”

Riko smiled slowly as he extended his hand, letting Matt place the cash roll into it. “A gift? How kind of you. She is lovely,” Slowly, he tipped his head. “But I want the boy.”

Neil froze, hand clenched onto Matt’s leg. 

Matt chuckled uneasily. “I was hoping to have him—“

“You can hand him over, or you can leave.” Riko pocketed the money. “Those are your options.” 

Katelyn, who was looking mildly distressed at the sudden hiccup they didn’t anticipate, pretended to be soothed by Matt as he squeezed her shoulder. “It’s alright, honey. Another time.” 

“Up.” Riko demanded. Neil stood slowly, feeling the numbness in his ankles from kneeling. Riko smiled at him a disgusting, sinister smile. “Very pretty. He’ll do splendidly. You’ll be kept in high regards at the Nest, Donovan.”

“Thank you.” Matt said stiffly, standing to take the collar off Neil. Neil felt something slip between his skin and the buckle. The microphone. 

“Leave it on.” Riko demanded. “Don’t touch him. What’s your name, boy?”

“Travis.” Neil said quietly. 

“Follow me then, Travis.” Riko spun on his heel and exited the room. Neil scratched at the back of his neck to slip the recording device into his sleeve. 

This was an extremely delicate situation: If Riko discovered his scars, he’d be fucked. If any of Allison’s semi-permanent hair dye came off onto Riko’s hands, or if they found somewhere light enough that he’d see the ring of the contact lenses, his cover was blown. Riko would recognise him as Neil Josten for sure.

One thing that Riko didn’t know what that Neil Josten had been the one to spill Raven blood: He had no clue that Andrew had pocketed him. The Foxes had made sure of keeping his identity secret, of which was mildly comforting. He’d walked into their open arms, unknowing of how attached he would grow. Trust was another issue, but he knew that both Matt and Katelyn were relaying the turn of events to anyone they could grab a hold of. Andrew wouldn’t sleep until Neil was out of the Nest and within his field of vision.

Neil would get out of this. He had to. 

The parlour he was lead into had finely dressed club patrons all lounging around a central fire. Their raven tattoos that curled up their necks were on clear display, showed off with popped collars and low-low-necklines dresses. 

Neil recognised only two: Jean Moreau, who stood, a silent presence, in the shadowed corner of the room. It was hard to miss him: Across his cheek was a three, tattooed to show status as one of Riko’s henchmen. Kevin’s two made Neil nauseated. 

The other was Thea Muldani, a talented mercenary that Neil had encountered once upon a time. She wasn’t likely to recognise him: He’d worn a bandana over his mouth and nose to cover the scars. She was assigned as protection to Ichirou at the time, and when Neil was delivering his last ‘gift’, they’d had a little confrontation. She was hellish to fight, a tank who dealt with brute force. 

Neil kept an arm’s length between him and Riko but followed him dutifully to where he stood in front of the fireplace. His guards held him back, and Neil fought against the urge to free himself from their grasp. 

The chatter fell quiet at Riko’s presence. 

“I hope you’re all enjoying a rather peaceful evening.” He began. There was a subdued applause. “Plans will come to fruition soon. The Foxes will remain distracted by our decoys, and we’ll snatch Palmetto right from under their noses, starting with dumping that insufferable Minyard in the river. Afterwards, Baltimore is ours for the conquering, and we will combine efforts with my father. The East Coast will be ours.”

Cheers echoed off the walls. Neil swallowed. 

“You sure your pet should be hearing all of this?” A man questioned. He was sprawled carelessly on an ottoman with a martini in one hand. 

Riko’s smile was cold. “He won’t talk.”

“Still,” He said. “Should we be celebrating with frivolity, so close to success? Seems like a rookie mistake.”

“Jean,” Riko crooned softly. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

The man sat up, suddenly fearful. “No, Lord Moriyama, please, it was a stupid suggestion, please ignore me—“ 

Jean had slid over to stand behind the man as he fretted. He choked on his words as he felt the barrel of Jean’s gun against the back of his head. 

Riko crouched down in front of him. “Remember my mercy. I don’t take kindly to whiners.” 

“Yes, my Lord.” He whispered. Neil remained absolutely still. 

Riko stood. “Enjoy your evening, everyone.” With a snap of his fingers, Neil was being escorted away from the parlour and down another, eerily similar corridor. It was a maze. Neil would have a difficult time getting out on his own. 

Knowing better than to talk, he took note of his possible weaponry: It’d be difficult to incapacitate the two meatheads escorting him, but they were probably both armed to the teeth if he did manage to isolate one of them. Neil had his shoes, heels that could puncture through the throat with ease, but it’d be too inefficient. There weren’t really any other options, unless where Riko planned on keeping him had dangerous decor. 

Maybe he’d be able to escape from a bathroom window. Or maybe they’d be locked in a room together, and Neil could snap the man’s neck and escape well before anyone found him. He couldn’t let Riko see through his disguise.

He found himself in a bedroom, with two four-poster beds opposing one another. Another fireplace and a pair of arm chairs sat between the beds: Neil recognised non-fiction novels and a photo of Kayleigh Day on the bedside table, closest to a bay window that oversaw Columbia. 

Riko was still holding onto him. He still refused to believe Kevin had betrayed him. Neil almost made a noise of disgust at Riko’s petulance.

Riko threw himself down into an arm chair with a belated sigh, signalling for Neil to kneel beside him. Stiffly, he dropped down, and felt Riko’s cold fingers tug on the buckle. Disgust rolled over his skin in waves. 

To distract himself, he mulled over the whole fucking mess he’d somehow gotten himself into. He could have simply shot his father and disappeared. Lived a life of peace, without interruptions, in some barren town in Australia or something. Instead he just had to spin it into a game, taunting the Moriyamas with lacerated bodies of their Butcher’s inner circle. Here he was, kneeling at the bastard Moriyama’s feet because of the Foxes. Because humanity fucking sucked. 

He definitely should have left when he had the chance. 

“Very pretty.” Riko laughed softly. “Didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to see Nathaniel Wesninski on his knees in front of me.”

Neil threw himself away from Riko, thudding into the ornately carved bed-end of Kevin’s mattress. Riko stood before him with a sick grin. 

“Thought your little trick was cute, was it?”

“How did you know?” Neil managed. 

Riko hummed as his fingertips ripped off the silicon coverings, exposing his cheeks. “You haven’t been careful, Nathaniel. I hear you’ve been preying on those Foxes. I was most surprised: Your vendetta has been so very pointed the last few years. What did those lowlifes do to upset you?”

Neil hesitated. “They tried to recruit me.”

“And you know your place, don’t you?” Riko sneered. “Kneeling before me.”

“Are you serious?” Neil choked on a laugh. “All the resources your father has spent on my assassination — you think he’ll just let you keep me as your chew-toy?”

“What he doesn’t know wont hurt him.” Riko crooned. “And I don’t plan on letting you leave this room, Nathaniel. You see, I’ve no space for such an unpredictable, inexperienced child, acting as a mercenary. But I am a man, and I do have my desires. You _will_ stay. It’s your rightful place.”

Neil spat at him. “My name is Neil.” 

Riko wiped the glob of saliva off where it had caught on his jaw, all traces of vindictive humour vanishing. The one on his cheek was carved in parallel to his cheekbones: The firelight glinted off the knife that had materialised in his hand, and the gold caps on his canines. Neil gripped the bed post as he leaned close enough that Neil thought he could smell blood on Riko’s breath. 

“You’re going to be for mercy, Nathaniel.” Riko whispered. “You’ll wish you never crossed me.”

Neil only smiled—his father’s smile, but his mother’s mocking tone. “You’ll try. I’ve outlived worse than you. Does daddy know you’re playing dress-ups? Wearing his title as Lord Moriyama like you have the right of claiming it? Bastard child. I pity you.” 

Neil should have made sure he was out of Riko’s reach when he let the taunts slip his tongue: The last thing he saw was Riko’s fist as it sailed through the air, landing right between his brows. 

* 

“You idiot.” Someone whispered. Neil felt his body being shaken. “Get up. Neil. Get _up_.” 

Neil groaned: His head throbbed, and his entire body was shaking with pain and exhaustion. He made a distressed noise, but a hand was clapped over his mouth. 

His eyes shot open, only to see Thea Muldani looming over him. 

It was enough to get him to scramble as far away as he could. 

She huffed with frustration. “I’m trying to help you, you fucking moron. Come on. Riko’s out, and there’s no one watching the room. He doesn’t have cameras because he’s paranoid the tapes could fall into the wrong hands, so this is our only window to get you out.”

“Thea?” He echoed, mind too fragmented to make sense of what was happening. “You tried to kill me last time I saw you.”

She shrugged. “You were trying to kill my mark. I was just doing my job.”

“You’re a Raven.” He said. 

She grit her teeth. “I am loyal to Kevin, and whoever Kevin affiliates with. Which means, unfortunately, you. We need to leave, _now_. Jean’s cleared an escape through the basement.”

“Jean too?” Neil laughed weakly, baffled. “Riko’s empire has truly crumbled, hasn’t it?”

“Jean is too afraid to act against the main branch of the Moriyamas.” Thea countered, rummaging through a back and throwing new clothes at him. “His only chance of escape was when Kevin left, but he took too long to decide.”

“And you?” Neil rose an eyebrow. 

“Kevin needs me here.” She said stiffly. “I do as he says.”

“You love him.” Neil said pityingly.

“He left me here.” She snapped. “Now he’s asked me to help you, and in doing so, has officially incriminated me. I’m not in love with him. I fucking hate him.”

_Yikes,_ Neil thought. He grabbed the hoodie she threw at him anyway, and caught a glimpse of his hands in the process. There were bloodied and bruised, the skin around his wrists rubbed raw. He winced with every movement until she huffed impatiently and hauled him out of bed with a fist in his collar. 

It had to be daytime: Neil had never heard the Nest so quiet. Riko had kept the curtains drawn, and with him being cuffed to the bed, he hadn’t the chance to see the time of day. He had no idea how long he’d been here. 

_Andrew,_ he thought distantly, stumbling along the empty corridors. Thea leaned on the opposite wall of the elevator, tapping impatiently with her shoe. When they arrived in the basement, she pulled him through the dark. 

Jean stood by the door, looking at him with disdain. 

“You should never have come here.” He said. He opened the door: Neil was too bruised to do much more than curl his fingers into weak fists. 

“Thank you.” It was the most honest thing Neil had ever said. 

“Get lost.” Thea pushed him towards the door. “This is as far as we can get you.” Jean slapped a measly twenty into his hand. Both turned away as Neil opened the door to escape, walking back into the darkness. 

The sensation of light curling across his skin was incredible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i considered putting in a cliff hanger but decided not to. you're welcome. 
> 
> also? no idea when the new chapter will come out? i have a two hour writing exam tomorrow (and every day for the next week) but typing this chapter has officially killed my wrist. PRIORITIES.


	8. Eight Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew deals with Neil's absence just how you'd expect him to: Horribly.

Vacuums were an interesting concept. Far too complex to have connotations with a banal cleaning device, but Andrew supposed that was just the way the world sucked. 

You overlooked something and gave it away carelessly, until you realise its worth now that it’s out of your hands. 

Eight _fucking_ days. Neil had vanished for eight days, and Andrew was ready to storm that stupid fucking club. Even if it meant being able to snatch Neil’s corpse away from Riko’s greasy fingers, before he charred or mutilated Neil beyond recognition. 

Andrew was fascinated by vacuums, because he felt it was the most adept analogy to his situation. This delicate, delicate situation. Everything he grabbed was sucked into this void alongside him. He felt the tightness in his skin, the ache in his bones, like he was being stretched. 

He sat at his desk, staring at the door, ear out for the creaking open of a window in his bedroom. Like Neil would appear, in his unorthodox manner, and everything would be fine. 

Fucking hell. Andrew should just let him die. Idiot deserved it, especially seeing as he could have just refused, and the three of them kicked out. 

Eight days, spent pacing, spent sparring with Renee, spent carving into the concrete walls and Raven skin. 

192 hours, spent something along the lines of this. 

*

The Tower, for all its exuberance and success, was an effort to navigate. The Foxes had to clamber through body shoots to get to the basement, to avoid leading unsuspecting guests to what Nicky jokingly called the Slaughterhouse. Andrew’d always served him a flat glare. They didn’t make a habit of needlessly murdering people. Andrew had impeccable self control. 

Dan had burst into his room a mere thirty seconds ago and told him the scope-out team had sent an SOS, that everyone should be in the basement within five minutes. She never closed the door after herself, much to Andrew’s irritation. He couldn’t help but notice the strange hiccup to his heart rate as he contemplated the SOS. What had Neil done this time?

He hated the way the elevator plummeted to the basement from the fourth floor, tapping his foot impatiently. Dan looked nervous by his side, Wymack forever disgruntled. The Foxes were also irritated, probably form being disturbed in the middle of the night. 

Sweaty and strife with anxiety, Neil’s stripper friend and Matt were dirtying the foyer’s carpet, distinctly missing one vital member. 

“Gracious, are you alright?” Abby fretted. “You look like you’ve had a spook!” 

“Where’s Neil?” Dan demanded. 

They looked at each other. 

Andrew clenched his fists. He didn’t say anything. His anger would betray his facade of indifference. 

“Riko took him instead.” Katelyn whispered from behind her fingers. “They didn’t know who we—who Matt is. They didn’t make the connection. We have no idea if they knew who Neil is: We spent our allotted time trying to figure out some way to get him back, but they escorted us out—“

“And told us that Riko was keeping him. Neil.” Matt shook his head. “I almost socked them. I should have. But we were turned away, and blowing our cover would make it even more dangerous.”

“He can’t know Neil’s affiliated with us.” Dan agreed. “He’ll kill him before Kengo gets the chance.”

“So what, he’s just going to pawn Neil off to Kengo now?” Nicky said, flapping his arms like a spooked bird. Andrew’s nails bit into his palms. “Neil’s practically as good as dead, isn’t he?”

“You should never have let him go.” Kevin snapped. “He’ll never make it out. No one makes it out.”

“You did.” 

Kevin glowered. “It almost cost me a limb, and I was Riko’s favourite.”

“We tried,” Matt looked at him. “But Neil just went with him. No looking back.”

“Fucking _idiot_.” 

“What was he thinking?”

“He’s so dead. I bet we’ll find his body on our doorstep, like what he did to the Butcher.”

“He was beginning to grow on me.”

Andrew closed his eyes. 

“No,” Dan said quietly. “We’re going to get him out.”

Andrew opened one eye, just to look at her. She was looking directly at him. 

“Riko wouldn’t dare kill him. That’d be suicide. He’s going to use Neil—to get into Kengo’s good books. We should have some time, if we’re quick enough.” She set her jaw. “We’re going to get him back.”

Andrew offered her a jerky nod. 

Around him was celebration: Dimly, he noticed his twin offering to clean a deep scratch on that simpering Katelyn, and Kevin worrying at his phone, and Matt brushing a kiss over Dan’s curls. 

He glanced over his shoulder, wishing Neil would just appear out of nowhere like he always did. 

Nope.

Nothing. 

*

Andrew paced across the cell. “You said we had limited time, Dan.”

“Yes,” She agreed. “That doesn’t mean I can have you going ballistic. It’s barely been 18 hours since Matt and Katelyn have come back. Kevin’s got word on the inside. Neil is secure. Just give it time, Andrew.”

He was locked up in the basement, in one of the few holding cells the Foxes had manufactured for their purposes. They’d sedated him, carried him down here, and locked him up. He had his knives, but the lock was on the outside, and it was passcode, not key. Andrew knew it, of course. He just couldn’t reach. 

“Don’t fucking lock me up.” He spat out of grit teeth. 

Dan shrugged apologetically. “Once you’ve calmed down. Acting rashly could cost his life, Andrew. We can’t afford that.”

Andrew sunk into the corner of the grimy cell and smoked consistently, for the next two hours. No one visited him except for Kevin—the fucking bastard who’d shot him with that tranquilliser—who sat by the bars, again on that fucking phone. 

“I’ll kill you.” Andrew said gravely. “For shooting me and knocking me out.”

So what, he’d tried to strangle Matt? So what that he wanted to go out and find Riko and rip the skin from his body until he confessed and _begged_. So what if their plans were falling apart, if Andrew was the only one who could look beyond their own nose to figure out a way out of this mess, if everything went to shit. So what? 

Didn’t matter to Andrew. None of it did. Nothing fucking mattered. Andrew didn’t care. 

Kevin shrugged at Andrew’s accusation. Of course he’d have been the one to shoot Andrew with the tranquilliser. Andrew would have killed them if it’d been anyone else. Andrew wanted to carve that stupid raven tattoo off his neck, and then carve him into pieces. 

“What are you doing here?” He accused.

“Figured you’d get bored. You really care about him, don’t you?”

“Still bored.” Andrew muttered, watching the way the smoke curled into the air from between his fingers. Were there fire alarms down here? Probably not, not with Nicky’s antics. “He’s my asset.”

“Sure.” Kevin said, knowingly. “You know he’s okay, right? He’s alive.”

“Alive doesn’t matter. He needs to be here.”

“He’s a Fox.” Kevin agreed. “I’ll convince him to sign. Get tattooed. When he gets back.”

If, Andrew wanted to remind him. Whoever he had on the inside, Andrew didn’t trust them. He didn’t trust any Raven as far as he could tolerate Kevin’s bullshit without a smoke, which wasn’t far at all. 

The Foxes brought him good food, ice cream, cigarettes, to keep him appeased. Even Matt came to visit—the person who’d bore most of Andrew’s violent outburst of anger a few hours ago. He didn’t say anything: They played poker. Dan talked strategy, Andrew didn’t listen. 

Eighteen hours turned into twenty four. Neil was nowhere in sight. Dan let Andrew out of his cell with a warning and strict orders to sleep. Logistically, he knew that Dan was higher in this stupid hierarchy they’d created for themselves. Still, no one told Andrew what to do. Dan knew that.

“If you start acting up, I’ll chuck you into the cell again, no qualms about it.” Dan put her hands on her hips. “We all want him back, Andrew.”

“Don’t assume it’ll be that easy.” He sneered. “We don’t get what we want because we ask for it.”  
“Get some sleep.” She grumbled, shutting her door in his face. 

That night, Andrew dreamt of finding a headless body in the Tower’s lobby. It was wearing a sleeved, turtle-neck bodysuit, black stiletto boots, and jewelled fishnets. Andrew’d recognise the scars beneath the bodysuit anywhere. 

Fuck Neil Josten.

Really, fuck him. For disappearing like that. For fucking with Andrew’s head. For those eyes that held the sadness of every grieving mother, every mournful father.

_Fuck you, Neil Josten._

*

Twenty four hours turned to forty eight. No Neil. 52 hours, 67 hours, 79 hours, Andrew was pacing. Kevin said he was alive. How did Kevin know? What — who — was Kevin hiding from him? He knew Jean hadn’t spoken to him since he’d left. Jean would never talk to Kevin again. 

There were other things that needed to be done. Now that they were sure that Neil was alive—not okay, alive—and that he was still unaffiliated with the Foxes, they needed to keep moving on. Keep moving forward. 

Kengo was angry at Riko: He’d killed investors, he’d suffered the scandals of a murder investigation that had dozens of witnesses and not a single lead, two of his Raven lackeys had been convicted of the torture and murder of a Dr Proust, and half a dozen had wound up dead. 

Wait, Dan said. Well, Andrew had been waiting. 84 hours. 96 hours. 118 hours. 143 hours. No Neil. 

Andrew fired sixteen shots into the silhouette on the wall. Kevin stood beside him, hankering at his technique, but whatever he said went through one ear and out the other. 

“Andrew.” He said, voice momentarily strained. Andrew lowered his gun. “You should stop denying it.”

“What, that I should have put a bullet through your skull when I came to you with a mangled hand and nothing else?” Andrew swung the gun around his finger.

“Neil.” Kevin said. “You care.”

Andrew reloaded the gun and pointed it at Kevin’s forehead. The man flinched. _Neil wouldn’t flinch,_ Andrew thought. He could see it: Squeezing the trigger, the splatter of blood on the concrete wall behind him, his green eyes — no, blue eyes — rolling up into his head. 

Andrew’s heart hammered rapidly as his skin grew clammy, the images of Neil dead on the ground with blood pooling around his head taunting at his conscience. 

He redirected the gun and fired another round. 

*

Six days, fourteen hours. 158 hours. And thirty two minutes. Not that Andrew was counting. 

“Thea’s going to try and get him out.” Kevin confided in him. 

Andrew closed his eyes. Thea. _Of course._

He tapped his fingers on the edge of his desk. 

“We need to kill Riko Moriyama now. How?”

Kevin gulped. 

*

189 hours. Fourteen minutes. Andrew still wasn’t counting. The streets were bustling with peak hour, as residents of Palmetto city rushed home. Andrew locked his balcony doors, a habit he’d become reacquainted with. 

The last remnants of the sunlight slipped away into an ink-blue sky, and Andrew sat down in front of the copious amounts of paper spread in front of him. Capital M was circled on various pages. Moriyama, Moriyama, Moriyama. Their estates, their account details, their advertisement listings and employer profiles and futile police reports. Most recently, and somewhat conveniently, Kengo’s medical reports. 

Kidney failure. The old fuck was _finally_ going to die: It’d be much easier to fuck them up in the middle of a change-over.

An idea had formulated. All it needed was a little manoeuvring, a little coercing. Then they’d be golden. 

Nothing about Andrew’s life was remotely satisfactory, but the idea of bringing the Moriyama’s syndicate to kneel was enough to spark something deep within Andrew’s chest. 

Slowly, Andrew’s office door creaked open. He glanced up momentarily, hiding his mouth behind intertwined fingers. 

“Andrew,” Came a soft voice. 

His head snapped up. 

Neil Josten was a shrivelled example of an abused kid, his hoodie engulfing him and his bruised, swollen eyes and cheeks creating a disproportionate, sorry excuse for a man. 

Andrew was on his feet for him immediately. He strode towards the young man, but stopped moments before he would collide with Neil.

“Wymack and Abby patched me up.” Neil said, unable to speak louder than a mumble. His voice was raw from screaming. “I’m okay.”

Andrew’s fists clenched. Neil took them, gently unwinding the fingers until both his palms were open: He grabbed Neil by the shoulders and shook him gently. 

“You fucking idiot.” He growled. “I’m in my right mind to just get rid of you.”

Neil shrugged, forever apologetic. Andrew _hated_ it. Andrew hated him. 

He guided Neil into his room, where he gestured for Neil to undress. He did trust Abby’s medical capabilities — she wouldn’t be teaching Aaron if he didn’t — but knowing and seeing were different monsters entirely. 

Neil hesitated, hands wringing themselves out. 

“I know you have scars. Let me see what he did to you.”

Carefully, Neil pulled the shirt off—it was loose, but Andrew still had to help. In all his unrequited fantasies, pulling off Neil’s shirt wasn’t in this specific circumstance, but Andrew would take what he got. 

Andrew stared.

Looking at Neil, with his vulnerabilities displayed across his skin, was like watching a threatened dog: Scared, but unwilling to die. Shoulders curled inwards, but a determination gritting his teeth. He crossed his arms over his stomach as Andrew continued to say nothing in favour of simply observing. 

The burns were the most jarring: Burn scars didn’t fade to white, instead forming intense red patches and circles—a dashboard lighter. This was contrasted by the thin knife slices, which were faded white strips like comets in the night sky. Uglier were the gashes caused by hasty hacking, the demarkations of stitches and skin grafts created an uneven patchwork. Worst of all was the iron burn that actually changed the shape of his shoulder with the stiffness of scar tissue, across his shoulder, and the shredded skin that dashed across his navel and wrapped around his side. 

Riko’s abuse seemed to shadow his previous wounds, knife marks drawing across the predetermined map, like Riko was playing colouring-in on Neil’s skin. Bruises added colour and depth. Across his neck were smudges of what seemed to be ink. This was what Andrew’s fingers landed on first. 

“Thea said he was getting ready to mark me.” Neil murmured. “Number four of his inner circle. Did you know I was meant to be three? And you would have been four. Jean would be all the way down at number five.”

“In another world.” Andrew said. 

“In another world.” Neil agreed. “Are you angry?”

“Very.”

Neil hummed. “I called Wymack to pick me up from Columbia. I didn’t know anyone else’s number off by heart. I’d never needed to call anyone else.” He smiled lopsidedly. “And you were on speed dial. I’ll need a new phone, by the way.”

“See if I care.” Andrew muttered, just to be difficult. “Don’t do it again.”

“I couldn’t reveal my affiliations.” He insisted. “It’d fuck everything up. He’d kill you all.”

“Let him try. If he comes for you, let me deal with it. Don’t go sacrificing yourself when nobody fucking asks you to.”

“So grateful.” That was when Andrew saw it. The flicker of his wry smile, the glint of mischief in his eye, the strange awe-inspired gaze that Andrew wanted to erase from his memory. “How long was I gone?”

“Eight days.” Specifically, 194 hours and — he checked his watch — twenty-four minutes. “Thea kept us informed that you were alive and that she’d take care of it. Kevin’s smitten with her. It’s disgusting.”

“We should get them out.” Neil said fiercely. “Both of them. Riko will kill them when he discovers what they did.”

Andrew held Neil’s chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing Neil to look at him. “Not if we kill him first.”

Slowly, Neil’s wry smile curled into a fierce grin. 

*

Andrew watched with faint amusement as Kevin prepared himself in talking to Neil: Inviting him into the Foxes, officially. Being initiated, being marked, proving his loyalty, as if he hadn’t already done that by the tenthfold. Andrew knew that somewhere, Kevin would have written out some stupid speech, like it was politics.

Sometimes running a gang was like politics. Except with a considerable increase in death-threats, knife-wielding and drugs. Though he supposed those were prevalent in politics too. 

Neil was spending much needed time reacquainting himself with the other Foxes, though Andrew suspected he was just wheedling need-to-know plans and strategies for the Moriyama extermination. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—think about anything else. He and Kevin had that in common. 

The door to the office burst inwards—Andrew was so sure he’d locked that—and Neil fell through the doorway, throwing himself against the door and locking it behind him. He huffed with exhaustion and smiled weakly at Andrew’s glare. 

“Socialisation isn’t my strong suit.” He offered.  
“Do you have a strong suit?” Kevin retorted, nerves loosening his tongue considerably. 

Neil narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry, are you still relevant?”

“You little shit.” There was fondness in that tone. Somewhere. “Neil. I need to ask you something. Sit down?”  
Neil sat on the chair in the corner of the room, waiting patiently with an arched brow. 

Kevin cleared his throat. “We’re going to take down the Moriyamas. But I think it’s about time you proved to us your dedication to the Foxes. You are one of us, and we want to recognise that. I know you want to avoid affiliations, but it’s a bit late for that now, isn’t it? We want you on our team. You’ll provide invaluable skills to the group—who, mind you, won’t be willing to give you up any time soon. We have the same goal, and you can already see how well we would work together as neighbours, should we claim Columbia. Baltimore is yours, but the Foxes could be that inner circle you can rely on and trust for its control and upkeep. You can’t do it on your own, and at this rate, you’re more likely to lose it to the Moriyamas than ever before.”

Neil just stared at him, mildly bored. 

“Join?” Kevin suggested, constantly doubting himself whilst insanely egotistical at the same time. Andrew didn’t know how he managed it. It had to be exhausting. 

“Sure.” Neil shrugged. 

“Wait, seriously?” Kevin struggled to keep his excitement contained. Neil looked at him, perplexed, so Kevin cleared his throat and stood straight. “Great. We’ll train your aim, and your knife-work, and get you gear and—your tattoos, you should get your tattoos—“

“I currently can’t breathe without difficulty, Kevin.” Neil argued. “Give me some fucking time to get my head on straight, will you.”  
“Right.” Kevin said, sheepishly. 

“You’re awfully excited about murder, Kev.” Andrew drawled. 

Kevin looked at his clenched fist, the scars of the reconstruction white against his tanned complexion. The look in his eyes was something Andrew could acknowledge: A deadened, dulled anger, clawing its way up your throat to escape, but too bruised and battered to make it. 

“Yeah,” Kevin said, half-heartedly. 

Neil stifled his snort with a cough. 

*

“What’s it like, giving therapy to such fuck ups?” Andrew spun the knife between his fingers. “Surely that goes against the content of that pretty diploma on the wall, Bee. Not to mention that withholding information regarding criminal activity is illegal.”

“Well.” Bee said diplomatically. Andrew could tell she was amused. “I’m not exactly a great person, am I?” 

No, Andrew thought. Got her way through her college career dealing drugs, meeting Wymack and Abby on the way, becoming a little band of merry men in the process. Why she decided to keep up the psychologist front was beyond Andrew, other than the fact that she was good at her job. 

They’d become acquainted after Andrew’s trial, where he was forced onto court-mandated drugs and cognitive behavioural therapy. Wymack, who had already scooped Andrew up at this point, pawned him onto Betsy, knowing it’d have the greatest chance of success. 

Betsy understood what Andrew’s position required him to do. She never challenged that. Whilst Andrew was beyond his sentencing, he still used her. As a sounding board. As someone who didn’t encroach on his boundaries needlessly. 

It wasn’t the first time they’d spoken about Betsy’s immoral standings. 

“How I reconcile what I do and what you do is simple.” She shrugged, when he was dissatisfied with her answer. “I’d follow you into prison and continue the conversation. Nothing would change. Perhaps your imprisonment would prevent you from harming others, but that isn’t going to stop people from being harmed. I am here to pick up the pieces: I am not a preventative measure. Though I wish you wouldn’t resort to murder, Andrew.”

“Some things can’t be left as loose ends. It’s too dangerous. We’ll all be dead: What good is that, then?”

“And you tell me you don’t care about the others.” Betsy remarked. “Where’s the careless, keen on collateral damage Andrew that I have become so well acquainted with? ”

“I still don’t care.” Andrew said immediately. “I’m just not an idiot. Who makes a martyr of themselves and then rocks up and thinks it’s fine to disappear for eight days.”

“Neil.” Bee guessed. She was always right. “He’s still on your mind?”

“He’s not interested.” Andrew said flatly. “He won’t be. But I—“ He clenched his fist around the knife and frowned. 

“Need him.” Bee offered. 

“No.” He snapped harshly. “I don’t need him.” 

“It’s okay.” She promised. “I don’t mean a sexual need, or an emotional intimacy need. He’s your asset, your edge. You’ll need him in the foreseeable future. Is his professional value intertwining itself into how you value him as a person?”

“He can fuck right off.” Andrew huffed. “I’d chuck him off my balcony if he didn’t have Baltimore under his thumb and the Moriyamas on his tail. I fucking hate the sight of him.”

“If he consented to your advances, would you? Advance?” She laced her fingers together delicately, placing her hands over her knee. 

“He’s not going to.” Andrew ran his finger over the sharpened blade, gentle enough to not cut, but a motion familiar enough to send a tremor down his spine. 

“Regardless.” Bee insisted. 

“There’s no if.” Andrew grit his teeth. “I won’t entertain the thought. I refuse.”

“Okay,” Bee said gently. “That’s fine. Let’s move on.” 

Andrew relaxed minutely. Still, the feeling of Neil’s damp curls whispering across his skin played over and over, until he could barely hear Bee speak with the blood rushing in his ears. 

_Get over it_ He told himself sternly. _Get over yourself._

If only it was that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeyyyyyy reunited


	9. Building Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this gets very gory. there's violence and blood and lots of violence. you have been warned.

Neil woke due to a buzzing on the floor beside his mattress, situated in the corner of Andrew’s room. It was a sensation still unfamiliar and unnerving. It wasn’t Andrew, who was asleep a few metres away from him, nor was it Wymack. An unknown number had merely sent the word _three_ to his message inbox. 

He scowled at it, before deleting the message and falling asleep once more. 

*

 

“Kengo’s dead.” Kevin said hollowly. 

Neil looked up slowly, the phrase continually circling around the forefront of his mind. _Kengo is dead. Kengo is dead. Kengo is dead._ He felt close to throwing up when a painful poke to his side jolted him from his thoughts. 

Andrew stared at him with lidded eyes. Neil, whilst having perfect censure regarding Andrew’s actions and his decision-making process, simply could not figure out why he’d grown silent on Neil all of a sudden. He wasn’t avoiding Neil: He kept him within an arm’s radius at all times. But they’d barely spoken. 

He reached out without warning, but slowed before touching Neil’s arm. Neil nodded. He took Neil’s clenched fist and unfolded it, finger by finger. 

“Are you listening to me?” Kevin demanded. “Kengo is dead! Riko is going to be absolutely ballistic. He wasn’t invited to the funeral—and yet Tetsuji was.”

Renee was perched by the window sill, looking contemplative. Dan was worried: Wymack guarded the room with a straight face. 

Neil looked up. “What’d happen if he tried to attend?”

“Ichirou would probably lose it.” Kevin supplied. “It’s not just Riko going against the wishes of the dead: It’s a display of power. He’ll think Riko is trying to destabilise him.”

“Well, that’s easy.” Neil scoffed. “Invite Riko to the funeral, have Ichirou shoot him. Be done with all this.”

Dan frowned. “How are we supposed to get him invited? The invitations were exclusive. He’ll know a fake when he sees one.”

“Get Jean to snatch Tetsuji’s.” Neil took his hand back from Andrew’s loose hold to stand, rummaging through the notes across Andrew’s desk. “It’s about time we got Jean out of there, anyway. Thea too.”

Kevin looked stricken. “He’ll never leave. It’s practically signing his own death certificate.”

Neil gestured at himself. “I’m alive and fine, aren’t I?” 

“I wouldn’t say fine, Neil.” Renee said gently.

Kevin merely rolled his eyes.

Infiltrating the Nest again would be too difficult. The security was so tight that the Nest was closed for renovations, though Neil remembered that had been part of the plan, prior to Neil’s escape. Riko’s ministrations were distorted and fragmented with pain. Shutting down the Nest had been important in keeping all Raven business secure through the Moriyama pass over, and the Ravens’ plans for the Foxes. There was meant to be a distraction. Riko had laughed about it. 

They needed to draw Riko out of seclusion in order to snatch Jean and Thea away. With a decimated inner circle, Riko would drown. The invitation to the funeral would be a lifeline, his brother fishing him out of the deep, but it’d most likely end in bloodshed between the brothers. The Foxes would pick up the pieces and go on their merry way. 

It’d be simpler if Neil could just remember what the Ravens had in stall for the Foxes. He felt useless. 

“I’m calling to meet with them in neutral territory.” Andrew said, voice roughened with misuse. Neil’s gaze snapped to him immediately, but Andrew was slower to meet him. When they did make eye-contact, something crawled down Neil’s spine. It caused a jolt to his stomach: He sat straighter. “Contact Jean and Thea. Let them know that they must be at this meeting, with a perfect description of Tetsuji’s invite. We’ll meet a place where we have the upper hand.”

“Absolutely not.” Dan fumed. “That’s way too risky.” Renee placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“What the fuck do we have that would make Riko want to meet peacefully?” Kevin demanded. 

“Me.” Neil murmured.

Andrew’s jaw clenched. “Yes.”

“No.” Kevin said immediately.

“I agree with Kevin for once.” Dan muttered.

“Weren’t you the one who was vouching for me to join the Foxes?” Neil accused. “Might as well do something useful for once.” 

Renee shushed the rising cacophony of the room. “I think it should be Neil’s decision.” 

“I won’t let him take you again.” Andrew said. 

“I know.” Neil nodded. “I trust you.” 

If the words surprised Andrew, he didn’t show it. 

Kevin cleared his throat. “So you meet him, with Neil. Whilst that is happening, we attack his Raven guards, escort Thea and Jean out and conceal them. You make a dramatic exit with an ultimatum, dragging Neil with you. You get the fuck out of there, because as soon as Riko notices his Ravens are missing, he’ll open fire. We deposit them somewhere for safe keeping immediately, because bringing them back to Palmetto is as good as digging them a grave. Any ideas?”

“Trojans.” Andrew said easily, with a lazy wave of his hand. Wymack pulled out his phone, most likely to notify Rhenman and Jeremy Knox, the big and little bosses of the Trojans. Had to have cross-country connections somewhere. 

Kevin thought about it, then nodded. “So, when?”

“The funeral is in five days.” Andrew lit a cigarette. Neil did _not_ look at the curl of his fingers bringing the light to his mouth, the wash of smoke over pink lips. “I want this done in three. Tell them that’s the only chance I’ll give them. I’m not saving another Ravens’ ass.”

“I’ll take him under my wing.” Renee promised. “Thea, too.” 

“Well, that’s settled, then?” Dan stood. “For what it’s worth, I don’t like it. But I’ll make sure it gets done.”

“Opinion duly ignored.” Andrew blew a stream of smoke in her direction. “Everyone out. You’re annoying me.”

“Neil?” Dan jerked her head towards the exit to Andrew’s office. “I’m going to grab dinner, coming with?”

Neil glanced at Andrew, who didn’t say anything to object, so he stood and followed her out. 

She slung an arm over his shoulders, looking down at him. “If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I’d be able to get a word in edgeways with Andrew. How do you do it?”

Neil shrugged. “I ask. And then I listen.”  
She just shook her head. “If anything goes wrong with this stupid plan of his, I don’t care what he says. He’s gone.”

“It’ll be fine.” Neil promised.

“‘I trust him’” Dan quoted, with a wicked grin. “Don’t think I missed that one, Josten. How long have you two been at it?”

“At what?” Neil asked, perplexed. Dan merely laughed. 

He ate pizza on her bed with Matt, who switched on a film and let Dan lie across his chest. Momentarily, Neil thought about sleeping like that, with someone. Would Andrew let Neil sleep in his bed? 

The thought jolted him from his state of zoning out: He’d missed twenty minutes of the movie. His phone buzzed in his back pocket, so he fished it out.

_two_

It was a different unknown number to yesterday’s. Neil deleted the message again, just as another popped up. 

_come back_

Neil thanked Dan and Matt for the food and made his way back down the hall, passing Wymack’s quarters. He let himself into Andrew’s office quietly and crossed to the bedroom. 

“You wanted me?” He asked, leaning against the door frame.

Andrew sat, cross-legged on his bed in sweats. Glasses perched on his nose: In one hand he had a book. 

His armbands were off. He place a hand on the bed beside him. “Stay.”

Neil nodded, throat suddenly swollen. He took off his shoes and socks, carefully sitting on the bed and shuffling his way to sit beside Andrew. The man had put his book face-down, fists clenched in his lap. Neil instinctually reached out, pausing before Andrew’s nod, taking one hand to unfold the fist. Cruel, cruel hands. Neil quickly gazed over the lattice that were Andrew’s inner forearms, white against translucently pale skin, blue veins prominent beneath scar tissue. 

“Stay.” Andrew said, again. “Sleep.”

Neil swallowed but obeyed, tucking himself under the covers and turning his back to Andrew. He watched as Andrew’s shadow shifted up the bed to lean against the headboard, his shadow opening the book once more. 

Neil fell asleep to the sound of pages turning. It was the safest he’d felt in a long while. 

*

Eden’s was cleared out, much to Roland’s chagrin. 

“You owe me for this.” The man scowled. “If there’s gunfire, you’re paying for every single bottle that’s broken, and all the damage.”

Neil allowed him a small smile. “I’m getting paid pretty well—a step up from stripper wages. I’m sure I’ll be able to cover it.” 

Roland offered him a smile in return. “Is your hot boss coming back?”

Neil shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah.”

Roland grinned, leaning his elbow on the bar and his head in his hand. “Don’t know why you haven’t snatched him up, Nigel.” Neil snorted at the name. "Still playing the asexual angle? I thought that was just to deter creeps at the club.”

“I don’t know.” Neil’s teeth worried at his bottom lip. 

Roland moved on. “How’s Katelyn settling in with the Foxes? Are they treated her well? Because I miss her.”

“I’m not sure.” Neil admitted. “I’ve sort of been holed away. Andrew’s—““Possessive?” Roland suggested. “I hadn’t realised he’d already snatched you up.”

“Not possessive.” Neil shook his head. “Loyal.”

“Sure.” Roland paced away with a shake of his head as the doors of Eden’s club burst inwards. 

Guard were there to frisk Andrew and Renee upon their entrance: They handed all guns and all knives over, just as Neil had upon his arrival ten minutes ago. Neil watched Andrew’s eyes glare at the ceiling as he endured unwanted hands. Neil wanted to yell at the guards to stop, but it was necessary. 

Roland already had a whisky out for Andrew when he approached Neil at the bar. He reached over Neil’s shoulder to grab it, leaning into Neil’s space. Renee engaged Roland in conversation a little ways down the bar.

“You’re nicely dressed.” Neil offered, a little breathless. 

Andrew only quirked an eyebrow, but he did allow Neil to straighten the blazer and tie. His gaze was sultry as it dripped over Neil’s attire—the only clothes Neil had left at Eden’s, stuffed into his old drawers. A turtleneck body suit, some ripped jeans to keep things appropriate. His customary black boots. 

The doors burst inwards once more. The Ravens had arrived. 

“Foxes.” Riko claimed. Jean was by his side, a buff goon backing the pair. Two others stayed by the door: One, Neil saw, was Thea. “I hope you’ve come here to surrender.”

“Let’s discuss that, shall we?” Andrew gestured. “Somewhere more private. I’ll leave my security outside if you leave yours.”

“Sounds reasonable.” Riko sneered. “Lead the way.” His beady eyes latched onto Neil’s form as he stood, the anger simmering beneath his cold exterior. Neil stayed close to Andrew as they walked, staying by the door as they moved into a small parlour. Neil hadn’t even known this place existed. It had to be a solicitation room. 

Riko stayed standing, fingers dancing lightly over the few objects within the room. Andrew threw himself onto the couch and lit a cigarette, much to Riko’s distaste. 

“So, child whore.” Riko laughed. “You called me here. You have to keep my interest.”

Andrew wasn’t fazed by the accusation. “You control the land between two of my own territories. I think it makes sense to either grant me Columbia peacefully, or find yourself forced out.”

“You gave him Baltimore?” Riko suggested, outraged. His teeth ground together as he gazed at Neil. “You fucking idiot.”

“Eyes on me, Riko.” Andrew sat forward. “He’s your prize. I’ll give him back if you cooperate. Isn’t that nice of me? If not, I’ll eradicate any presence of the Ravens from Columbia and use you as an example.”

“You, and what followers?” Riko laughed pityingly. “The Foxes are a skeleton crew. You’re in no position to dangle Nathaniel over my head.”

“And yet, here he dangles.” Andrew ashed his cigarette onto the carpet. “I’ve only got verbal threats from you, Riko. I can’t comprehend how you’re a threat to my team.”

“Seth is just ashes in the wind, is he?” Riko laughed at Neil’s wince. “You once asked me, Nathaniel, how I knew it was you trying to scurry around in the Nest. You think I wouldn’t have tested the DNA under the Raven you killed’s nails? I’ve known it was you, running around for the Foxes, for weeks. You are not as slick as you think you are.”

“Why let Matt and Katelyn go?” Neil demanded. “If you knew they were Foxes?”

“You would never have submitted to me if I’d hurt your precious Foxes. See how they’re selling you away, now?” Riko _cackled_. “They know who you belong to. Stolen goods remain as stolen goods, regardless of what changes may happen to the items.” 

“Surrender, Riko.” Andrew said, voice low and deadly. 

Riko simply smiled. “Never.”

Andrew stood, brushing himself off. “Well. Remember the Foxes offered civility.”

Neil followed him out, bludgeoning the door handle off in the process. It’d only hold Riko for a minute, but a minute was enough. 

It was a blood bath outside. Two Ravens were bleeding on the dance floor, Roland bent over as he mopped up the debris. When he saw them, he grimaced. “You owe me.”

Neil chucked him a wink, giddy with success as they ran from the club, to the car that sat by the curb. 

“Where are they?” Andrew barked. 

Kevin revealed himself from under a blanket, which Neil thought was completely useless. He was a joke of a criminal sometimes. “In the boot. Hurry.” 

They shot off so fast that Neil’s head whacked against the headrest. There was a thump from the read of the car and a yelp. 

“You didn’t sedate them?” Andrew said icily. Neil recognised Matt’s truck up ahead, being manoeuvred by Renee. 

“They’ll be fine.” Kevin said uneasily, looking out the window. 

Upstate Regional was a busy airport, but not this late in the evening. Andrew swung his car into an empty parking space, tucked away in a shadowed corner. There were only two cars in the near vicinity. Andrew clambered out and unlocked the boot, Neil staying by his shoulder as Kevin wrenched it open. 

Two extremely disgruntled Ravens clambered out, flushed and rumpled. 

“You drive like a maniac.” Jean’s French lilt was still prevalent. He tried to smooth his hair, before shoving a file at Andrew. “You’re all going to get yourself killed.”

“A lovely sentiment.” Neil promised. “Get out of here.”

“I forget you’re just as mouthy when you’re not writhing in pain.” Thea muttered. She glanced at Kevin, who was standing a little distance away, staring at the ground. With a cluck of her tongue, she stalked over to him. Neil watched her push his chin up, murmuring softly under her breath. She pressed a kiss to his cheek: He flushed red. 

“Nothing to say to an old friend?” Andrew had his arms crossed, knowing exactly the reaction those words would incite. 

“He left me to die.” Jean said fiercely. 

“And yet here you are, in one piece.”

If you could consider Jean that. He was bruised and swollen, cut up like Neil was only a few days ago. Every movement was slow and considered. He glared at Andrew until he gave up on irking Andrew’s apathetic front, slouching. 

Renee honked Matt’s car and Neil turned his head to watch two individuals approach, the sunlit tans out of place in the cold evening chill. Jeremy Knox was hard to miss, as was his boss Rhenman, both striding towards them with confidence. Jean didn’t watch their approach: Kevin was torn between gazing at Jeremy and Thea.

“Foxes,” Jeremy smiled. It was oddly genuine, considering the caliber of people the lot of them were. “Good to know you’re keeping things wild over on the east coast." 

“Quite the show you’ve put on, with those Ravens.” Rhenman added. “You’ll owe us for this.”

Jeremy nudged his boss lightly. “We’re happy to take you both in, Jean and Thea. I hope California will be hospitable for you both.”

“Anywhere’s more hospitable than the Nest.” Neil muttered. 

Jeremy arched an eyebrow at Kevin. 

“This is Neil Josten.” Kevin said flatly. “He has an attitude issue.”

Rhenman stepped forward. Neil noticed the bullet-graze scarring across his jaw, which didn’t make the man’s appearance any more inviting. Neil kept an arm’s length between them, looking up staunchly as he crossed his arms. “Thought you’d be taller, son. I've heard about your tricks.”

“For what he lacks in height he makes up for with idiocy. You should get out of here.” Andrew unlocked the car and clambered in without a goodbye. 

Rhenman patted Neil on the head: It was both humiliating and humorous at the same time. Kevin grabbed Thea by the wrist for a few words whispered into her ear, and Jeremy took Jean by the elbow. Andrew honked impatiently, so Neil clambered back into the car. 

As they drove, Neil phone began to ring. He opened it to find a text he’d missed: zero. It was both unnerving and anticlimactic, but he had no time to process it: An unknown number was calling. 

He answered it. 

“Abram, is it you?” Katelyn panted. “Where are you?”

“Driving back to the Tower. How did you get my number, Katelyn?” She said nothing: Static filled Neil’s ear. “Katelyn?”

“Sorry.” She whispered. 

The line cut out. 

Neil gripped his phone in his fist. “Eden’s. Go back to Eden’s.”

*

Andrew skidded to a stop by the curb: It was still dead, from being shut down for the evening. Kevin snatched the gun from Andrew’s open palm and waited Andrew’s commands. Before Andrew could clamber out, Neil leant between the two front seats.

“Stay. We might need a quick get-away.” Neil said. “If I’m not out in five, come get me.”

“I’ll leave you to die.” Andrew muttered.

Neil busted the locked door down and kept his knife close to his cheek: The main room was empty, as was the loft. That left the back room, where Neil had once spent his evenings dancing. Where Kevin and Andrew first approached him and got him into this whole mess.

It was too dark for Neil to understand what he was looking at, but as his eyes adjusted, his stomach rolled. 

The Foxes were bound and gagged in a ragged pile. Dan, Matt, Abby, Wymack, Allison, Nicky, Aaron, all the younger ones. And Katelyn, the only one without a gag. She had a pile of bound explosives sitting in her lap. Her sobs wracked her body violently, and as she realised Neil was standing in front of her, she let out gasping breath. How the fuck had they gotten here?

“He tried to get me to betray you, Neil, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t—“ She coughed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Hands up.” Said a gentle voice from behind him. Neil slowly rose his hands above his head, knife falling to the floor and skidding away. The safety of his captor’s gun flicked off, as the gentle voice murmured: “Kneel.”

Neil grit his teeth as he slowly went to his knees, the man walking around into Neil’s field of vision. 

_“Roland.”_

Roland’s smile was pitying. “It was hard lying to you, Neil. But Eden’s has never been neutral ground. Don’t blame Katelyn. I made her life very difficult. ” 

“You son of a bitch.” Neil said scathingly. 

“Careful.” Roland advised. “One wrong move and Gorilla over there will press the detonator, and I’ll pull the trigger. It’ll be messy, painful deaths all round.”

“So letting Jean and Thea go was all part of the plan?” Neil demanded, glancing towards the. door. Andrew and Kevin were still out there. “Riko’s out of his mind.”

“Admittedly, no.” Roland snorted as he shook his head. Neil closed his eyes: Roland jabbed his forehead with the gun barrel. “I had no idea that’s what you were planning, with the little faux-negotiation. I couldn’t stop that crazy bitch in time. What’s her name? Renee? She’s scary fast.” 

“So what was the plan?”

“Riko had originally counted on having you in his possession, kidnapping all the Foxes, bringing you here to threaten you into submission, then burn the club down with them all inside. Then you escaped, so he changed it up a bit. Decided to push everything forward because of the funeral: He wants the Foxes under his thumb when Ichirou comes snooping.” Roland rolled his eyes. “Riko never sticks to a plan.”

“Fuck you.” Neil said, voice cracking a little. His clenched fists shook with anger. “Walk away whilst you still can.”

“Bold words for someone who’s so vastly outnumbered. I can’t help but notice,” Roland smiled coldly. “You keep looking at the door. Minyard’s not going to save you, not this time. He’s catching up with an old friend.”

Neil had to get himself out of this situation. There was a man with a bomb, a man with a gun, Neil, unarmed, the Foxes at Roland’s mercy, and Andrew and Kevin dealing with whatever demons Roland had set loose. He swallowed and found each of the Foxes, saying goodbye to them individually as he held their gazes. 

“How can I convince you to let them go?” Neil asked. “You’re not a part of the Fox-Raven war, Roland. You shouldn’t have to side.”

Roland hummed. “Don’t think there’s anything you could give to convince me, Neil. Sorry. For what it’s worth, I did enjoy your company.”

“You let us go. After taking Jean and Thea, you let Andrew and I go.” Neil tried, looking up at Roland who had his lips pursed. “Why?” 

“Had to let you think you were winning.” Roland grinned fiendishly. “Isn’t it fun, having the upper hand?”

Suddenly, and yet so very slowly, blood exploded everywhere, splattering across Neil’s face and the floor. Roland let out a blood-curdling scream, and Neil gazed at what used to be Roland’s hand, and was instead bloody shrapnel and limp fingers hanging off the end of his wrist. The gun clattered to the floor: Before Gorilla could press the detonator, Neil scrambled, grabbing Roland’s abandoned gun and firing three shots at Gorilla’s head. They all landed—thank god. Kevin’s aim training had somewhat helped him in the end, not that he’d ever admit it. 

There was a creaking sound, and Neil looked up to see Kevin’s head pop out from an air-vent. He was holding his gun. 

“Was that you?” Neil asked, incredulous. “His hand was right next to my head! You could have killed me!” 

Kevin dropped down from the air-vent with a scowl. “I’m not the most infamous marksman for nothing, Neil.” 

Neil quickly wiped the tears off Katelyn’s cheeks before dismantling the bomb, cutting the fuse and stomping on the detonator. Kevin worked on cutting the Foxes free, who clamoured and cheered at their success. 

“Don’t you dare touch me, Josten.” Allison icily. Neil paused. “You have blood all over you, and I don’t need my dry-cleaner asking me more questions than they already do.”

Neil smiled weakly. 

“Enough.” 

The room grew silent. 

Andrew stood in the doorway, covered in blood and bruised. His hand held the knife in his hand tightly, his jaw clenched and shoulders curled in a way Neil had never seen before. He immediately wanted to take Andrew somewhere small and quiet, to watch him breath until the tension disappitated. 

“Renee just called from the Tower.” Andrew gazed at Dan. “We need to go. It’s on fire.”

“Don’t leave me here.” Roland croaked. Neil almost laughed: He’d forgotten the asshole was still alive. Having one’s hand blown off with bullets wasn’t enough to kill them: Kevin was a living example. 

Neil walked over to him slowly, standing over his crumpled form as he aimed Roland’s gun to the man’s throat. It'd be a slow, painful death.

“Isn’t it fun,” He mocked. “Having the upper hand?” 

*

“You’re paying for my car to be cleaned.” Andrew grunted, when they slammed the boot of the car shut. Renee had already swung past to give back Matt’s truck, who loaded up as many Foxes as he could handle, leaving Renee behind with Nicky, Andrew, Kevin and Neil to deal with the bodies. At least there were only three.

“It’s your money anyway.” Neil ran his fingers through his hair, breathing in and out through his nose. “Are you going to tell me who that is?” He gestured to the buff man in the marines uniform.

“Drake Spear.” Andrew murmured. “An old monster.”

Neil cocked his head to the side. “He should have suffered longer.”

“Revenge is pointless.” Andrew reminded him.

Neil smiled at him. “Sure.” 

“Sorry to interrupt your needless flirting over dead bodies, which, mind you, is _disgusting_ ,” Kevin poked his head out of the car window. “But we should probably get going. Nicky’s about to light the place up.” 

Neil flushed. They weren't flirting, were they? 

Nicky smelled like petroleum after he clambered into the car, with a wild grin on his face. 

The car pulled out of the parking lot just as smoke began to belch out of the windows.

*

“Anything from the other Foxes?” Neil asked, crouching down beside Renee at the riverbank. 

She was wiping her knives clean on paper towel, chucking the dirtied towels into a cotton bag that was filled with stones and the last few chunks of human remains. Neil grimaced as she flung the bag into the river, and they watched it float away.

Renee was the best at burying bodies, without a doubt. Neil was curious as to why she would still do disposal, if she was so put-off violence and murder. He’d never gotten the full story from her. It’d been a hectic few weeks. 

“The place is in ruins. I suppose we’ll head back to see it soon.” Renee offered him a sorrowful smile. “No one was hurt in the fire, thankfully. All guests and staff made it out safely.”

Neil hummed. 

“Something on your mind, Neil?” Renee asked, sliding her knives back into her sheaths. 

“You just remind me of someone.” Neil admitted. “Who was also good at disposal. And smiled to disguise violence.” The memory of Lola’s laugh still elicited shivers down Neil’s spine. 

“I was a runner for a Detroit gang. Worked up the ranks quickly.” She shrugged. “I learned my knife work and disposal tricks from the best. Started making my own bodies, but I didn’t want to rely on anyone else to cover my tracks.” She held the cross at her neck. “I know I’m going to hell, but Wymack saved me from a life of misery. I will be forever grateful. There’s still that dark aspect of myself, but the Foxes remind me to enjoy the life I have before eternal damnation.” 

They stood in silence together. 

“Shall we head back?” She offered. “The Foxes will need every helping hand they can get.”

Neil nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got bored with roland's nice-guy character. oops. 
> 
> sometimes i think to myself, is this going too far? and then i remember i don't care. 
> 
> next time: the funeral! :DDD


End file.
